The Internationale (new translation by Steve Bloom)

  Arise, impoverished slaves of hunger
  arise, ye wretched of the earth
  at last, erupting from our slumber
  justice thunders its rebirth.
  Sweep away this epoch of oppression;
  our multitude must stand up tall
  and shake the earth to its foundation
  we have been naught, we shall be all.

  ‘Tis the final battle
  march as one and we’ll see
  the workers’ international
  unite humanity!

  ‘Tis the final battle
  march as one and we’ll see
  the workers’ international
  unite humanity!