32

No. 40. Must be Something Wrong.

Tune — "I've Found a Friend."

When earth produces free and fair
The golden, waving corn;
When fragrant fruits perfume the air,
And fleecy flocks are shorn,
While thousands move with aching head,
And sing this ceaseless song:
We starve, we die! Oh! give us bread!"
There must be something wrong.

When wealth is wrought as seasons roll,
From off the fruitful soil;
When luxury, from pole to pole,
Reaps fruit of human toil;
When from a thousand one alone
In plenty rolls along.
While others only gnaw the bone,
There must be something wrong.

And when production never ends,
The earth is yielding ever;
A copious harvest oft begins,
But distribution never.
When toiling millions work to fill
The wealthy coffers strong,
When those are crushed who work and till,
There must be something wrong.

When poor men's tables waste away
To barrenness and drouth,
There must be something in the way
That's worth the finding out;
With surfeits one great table bends,
While numbers move along,
While scarce a crust their board extends,
There must be something wrong.

Then let the law give equal rights
To wealthy and to poor;
Let Justice crush the arm of might;
We ask for nothing more.
Until this system is begun
The burden of our song
Must, and can be, this only one,
There must be something wrong.