We need a break from wallowing in our decadant communist filth. I call this the Ode of the Crimson Banner:
The people's flag is deepest red,
It shrouded oft our martyred dead,
And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold,
Their hearts' blood dyed its every fold.
Look round, the Frenchman loves its blaze,
The sturdy German chants its praise,
In Moscow's vaults its hymns are sung,
Chicago swells the surging throng.
It waved above our infant might,
When all ahead seemed dark as night,
It witnessed many a deed and vow,
We must not change its color now.
It well recalls the triumphs past,
It gives us hope of peace at last,
The banner bright the symbol plain,
Of human right and human gain.
With heads uncovered swear we all,
To bear it onward 'till we fall,
Come dungeons dark or gallows grim,
This song shall be our partying hymn.
Then raise the crimson standard high,
Beneath its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.
Hear that Comrades? We'll keep the red flag flying here.