120 YEARS THE INTERNATIONALE ANTHEM - FOR A SOCIALIST WORLD!

THERE AREN'T MANY OF YOU ABOUT, ARE THERE?

This - more of a statement than a question - was put to me by a Roman Catholic acquaintance as I gave him a lift home one wet and windy winter evening.  He meant 'not many in Furness' and that, with so few, not much was likely to be achieved. 


He was, of course, absolutely correct; there are not many communists in Furness.
However, I reminded him that Jesus Christ had apparently started out with just a dozen followers and he should think what they ultimately managed to achieve......    


There being but few comrades in this largely politically backward part of the country is actually of little consequence for it is in the cities and large conurbations that revolutionary political activity is most likely to bear fruit.  As for 'numbers' -  well, at the last count, there are still quite a few communists in the world. And numbers are increasing as more and more workers understand that capitalism can never provide them with a secure future but only misery, wars, and further pollution of the planet in the quest for private profit.


Meanwhile, here's the English version of the Internationale (Eugene Pottier) as sung by comrades of the Communist Party of Britain at the close of major Party events....


Arise ye starvelings from your slumbers;
Arise ye criminals of want.
For Reason in revolt now thunders,
And at last ends the age of cant.
Now away with all your superstitions,
Servile masses arise! Arise!
We'll change forthwith the old conditions, 
And spurn the dust to win the prize.
Chorus;
    Then comrades come rally,
    And the last fight let us face.
    The Internationale 
    Unites the human race.
(Repeat) 


We peasants, artisans and others;
Enrolled among the sons of toil.
Let's claim the earth henceforth for brothers,
Drive the indolent from the soil.
On our flesh too long has fed the raven;
We've too long been the vulture's prey.
But now, farewell the spirit craven,
The dawn brings in a brighter day.
Chorus;


No saviour from on high delivers;
No trust have we in prince or peer.
Our own right hand the chains must shiver;
Chains of hatred, of greed and fear.
Ere the thieves will out with their booty
And to all give a happier lot.
Each at his forge must do his duty
And strike the iron while it's hot.
Chorus;


Go on, bellow this out with enthusiasm and blow the cobwebs away while you prepare for the coming trials and tribulations of Class Warfare unleashed on the poor by the multi-millionaires of the Boss Class.