'Her wage for the white villages
She has left without men;
Her wage for the brave men
She has put to the sword.
'Her wage for the orphans
She has left under pain;
Her wage for the exiles
She has spent with wandering.
'For the people of India
(Pitiful is their case);
For the people of Africa
She has put to death.
'For the people of Ireland,
Nailed to the cross;
Wage for each people
Her hand has destroyed.
'Her wage for the thousands
She deceived and she broke;
Her wage for the thousands
Finding death at this hour.
'O Lord, let there fall
Straight down on her head
The curse of the peoples
That have fallen with us.
'The curse of the mean,
And the curse of the small,
The curse of the weak,
And the curse of the low.
'The Lord does not listen
To the curse of the strong,
But He will listen
To sighs and to tears.
'He will always listen
To the crying of the poor,
And the crying of thousands
Is abroad to-night.
'That crying will rise up
To God that is above;
It is not long till every curse
Comes to His ears.