For The Alarm.

THE WAR CRY.

The day of labor's triumph doth rapidly draw near;
The bugle note is sounding. Devoid of craven fear
See our gallant band advancing; see our column firmly stand,
Each true heart resolved that right shall rule, throughout our hapless land.

The cohorts of the foe may sneer, and call us cranks or worse,
But by truth and justice armed, we care not if they pray or curse,
Ever onward, never halting, striking blows, that always tell,
We will battle till the field is won `gainst all the hosts of Hell.

Our demand is full surrender compromise we shall not heed,

In the past too oft we've been deceived and misled in our need.
All the hoarded wealth of ages, all that toil doth forge to-day,
Ye shall yield, or righteous vengeance shall o'ertake and claim her prey.

Words are idle: Deeds are fruitful. You have talked of rights of man,
While you'd rob us of our earnings, while for self alone you'd plan.
But now labor, strong and mighty, doth arise and claim her own;
Steady roll the wheels of progress crushing money king and throne.

Then our battle cry re-echo, "dynamite shall free the slave!"
All ye men who fear not, "forward!" Tho' ye fill a martyr's grave;
Yet the tyrant private property dethrone, the coming race
Bright with glowing fire of freedom shall thy name in honor trace.

Gorsuch.