There is something deeply yearning In the soul's most inner reach,
And, at first, you hear it whisper Like the waves upon the beach.
It sings along the treetops As it rides upon the wind
Like the sobbing and the sighing Of a hidden violin.
Yes, the voice begins so softly, But it slowly seems to grow.
It rises to a rumble Like an avalanche of snow.
It brings the sound of marching With a throb of jungle drums.
You can feel the pounding rhythm Ever rising as it comes!
Then it surges high in fury-- First a murmur, then a roar!
It has driven men to madness; It has driven men to war!
When the people lose dominion Over life and liberty,
Comes a cry for revolution, Comes a clamor to be free!
So, you tyrants and usurpers Heed the anger of the brave,
For, once more the cry has risen: "Either freedom or the grave!"
