In every story of the past,
In every tale ‘neath the mast,
In the stories of old,
All full of dust and mold,
In all lands, far and wide,
Where servants can never hide.
Their tormentors, the authority,
The antagonists of the minority,
Those cruel and heartless,
Those who inflict the madness.
But, deep inside,
Far within the tortured mind,
Of those thought broken,
Something adamant had awoken,
Something fierce and strong,
Which had come to right the wrong.
Nothing could stand its wrath,
Or the fierce will it hath.
Prison bars will be broken,
Emancipating words shall be spoken,
All the incarcerated will be freed,
And overseers they will never need,
Evermore liberty will reign,
And tears they cried in a joyous mane.
The skies had cleared and the sunshine poured,
The hearts rejoiced and their voices roared,
Till the sun had set vermilion.
‘Tis good,
Rebellion.