As we come marching, marching‚ in the beauty of the day
A million darkened kitchens‚ a thousand mill-lofts gray
Are brightened by the beauty a sudden sun discloses
And the people hear us singing‚ "Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses."

As we come marching, marching‚ we battle, too, for men—
For they are in this struggle and together we can win
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes—
Hearts can starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread‚ but give us Roses

As we come marching, marching, a hundred million dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for Bread;
Small art and love and beauty their grudging spirits knew—
It's Bread we fight for—but we fight for Roses, too

As we come marching, marching, we stand proud and tall—
The rising of the women is the rising of us all
No more the drudge and idler—ten that toil where one reposes—
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses
Bread and Roses