About turn! March! Away with a talk-show. Silence, you speakers! Comrade Mauser, you have the floor. Down with the law which for us Adam and Eve have left. We'll ruin the jade of the past. Left! Left! Left! Hey, bluejackets! Be gone! Sail away! Overseas! Or is there anything wrong with the keels of your battleships? May the vigorous British Lion Keep howling, frenzied and chafed. The commune shall not resign. Left! Left! Left! There o'er the hills of sorrow There's a land of the rising sun... For hunger, for the sea of horror, millions, march one by one! May them gang up against us, To all their threats we'll be deaf, The Entente shall never suppress us. Left! Left! Left! Can the eagle ever get blind? Can they make us swing off the road? Hold your proletarian hand tight on the world's throat! Deck out the sky with drape! March boldly ahead , don't be late! Who's marching out of step? Left! Left! Left!
