Today in a village of famine
A feast was had by all
So stop all the presses
And listen for the riots and brawls
But no rifles were aimed at comrades
Only at our fascist lords
There were ghosts of Winstanley's farmers
When they were wielding ploughs not swords

What reason have they to dance and to sing?
Their pockets are all empty
They've not stewards, queens or kings
No bosses, laws or order
Marching armies must be bring
To give them all a reason now
To dance and to sing

Hush, scholar of history
Do not write a word
We'll make repetition out of precedents
See that this dream goes deferred
Tell on insatiable greed within us
And how the rebellion didn't work
So in a hundred years, it's forgotten
Shift the tale and shift the worth
Where the women took up arms
To kill the fascists to protect life
Where the food was freed at last
For all the peoples' fork and knife
'Tis the reason they have to dance and to sing
Their pockets are all empty
They've no stewards, queens or kings
No bosses, laws or order
Everyone has everything
Each day gives them a reason now
To dance and to sing