(From: An Anthology of Revolutionary Poetry, 1929)
Sing a song of Europe,
Highly civilized.
Four and twenty nations
Wholly hypnotized.
When the battles open
The bullets start to sing;
Isn't that a silly way
To act for any King?
The Kings are in the background
Issuing commands;
The Queens are in the parlor,
Per etiquette's demands.
The bankers in the counting house
Are busy multiplying;
The common people at the front
Are doing all the dying.
