And another which went,
Fierce as the winter's tempest
Cold as the smoth'ring snow
On grind the mills of Avarice
High rides the cruel-eyed foe. . . .
Where is the hand of mercy,
Where is the kindly face,
Where in this heedless slaughter
Find we the promis'd place?
Sweated, despised and hearthless,
Scorned 'neath the banker's boot,
We freeze by their frost-bound windows—
As they fondle their blood-bought loot—
Love never spared a sinner,
Hate never cured a saint,
Soon is the night of reckoning,
Then let no heart be faint,
Teach us to fly from shelter
Teach us to love the cold,
Life's for the free and fearless—
Death's for the bought and sold!
* * * * * * * * * *
"And another which went,"
A song that wasn't "Jerusalem." And since Lew shouldn't have been hearing "Jerusalem" at this Anarchist meeting, this is probably something by The Cure from 1979.
"the cruel-eyed foe. . . ."
Capitalism, probably. See how it encompasses the mills of Avarice which grind the workers down? Which freezes them and saps their strength as surely as winter's tempest would?
"Where is the hand of mercy,
Where is the kindly face,"
Nowhere because Americans who will scream at you that this country is a Christian nation never act in Christian charity. Not that Christians ever actually care about charity or mercy or kindness. To them, telling somebody they're going to Hell if they don't accept Jesus into their hearts is the greatest kindness. Not because it saves a soul from eternity but because it's the least they can fucking do for their fellow man.
"Where in this heedless slaughter
Find we the promis'd place?"
The heedless slaughter of the immigrants and the poor who were promised something greater by the idea of the United States of America. When people tell you "Freedom isn't free," they mean it literally. If you can't pay, you don't deserve the grand and equitable American dream.
"Sweated, despised and hearthless,
Scorned 'neath the banker's boot,
We freeze by their frost-bound windows—
As they fondle their blood-bought loot—"
In America, life must be earned. And once it is earned by American standards, you never again need to worry about the poor. You earned yours; do they expect you to just give them theirs?!
"[the rest of the poem]"
This entire poem was pretty self-explanatory, right? I really didn't need to waste my time writing about it. It's just I wanted to point out how much I despise rich people and Christians. Oh, and here's the thing: if you're a true Christian with mercy and charity in your heart, you won't be offended by my saying I despise Christians. Because you know exactly who I'm talking about.
Anyway, the rest of the poem basically states that the poor and oppressed are ready to rise up and take their freedom by force, killing all those who let things into their saddles to ride them like the unethical, uncompassionate bastards they always were.
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