A people's right unto their soil from us unjustly riven.
We call upon the honoured brave—the free of every land—
For succour from the powerful—for aid from every strand:
We ask for every good man's prayer—we call for help on high;
Ye shades of Poland's slaughtered sons, look on propitiously.
We fight the fight of nations—bear witness field and storm
To our desert hereafter? Now we are but braggarts warm—
But by our honest cause, we swear, ere they our land retake,
Each town shall he a charnel tomb—each field a gory lake!