…..Poetry: The White Slaves of Europe, by Irish NS poet and writer Michael Walsh
We’re not so very different,
From what was long ago,
The harvest then the people,
Our own the cruelest foe,
They shipped us off to colonies,
Indentured, exiled, slaves,
Their gulags and plantations,
They worked us to our graves.
Nothing much has changed, alas,
There’s us and them that rule,
We’re still on their plantations,
Their hearts are just as cruel.
And tricks today no different,
Our masters still unjust,
Again we slaves must work until,
Our graves turn us to dust.
Europe is our Gulag,
Our masters stay the same,
And we must carry out their will,
But never say their name;
Now bows must fight the barons,
Their slime trails lined with gold,
There’s not a lot of difference when,
There’s need for men who’s bold.
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