Barbara Shenefield Art + Design

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National anthems are kind of bloodthirsty: France

Arise, children of the Fatherland,

The day of glory has arrived!

Against us, tyranny's

Bloody standard is raised, (repeated)

Do you hear, in the countryside,

The roar of those ferocious soldiers?

They're coming right into your arms

To cut the throats of your sons, your women!

Refrain:

To arms, citizens,

Form your battalions,

March, march!

Let an impure blood

Water our furrows!

What does this horde of slaves

Of traitors and conspiring kings want?

For whom have these vile chains

These irons, been long prepared? (repeated)

Frenchmen, for us, ah! What outrage

What furious action it must arouse!

It is for us they dare plan

A return to the old slavery!

Refrain

What! Foreign cohorts!

Would make the law in our homes!

What! These mercenary phalanxes

Would strike down our proud warriors! (repeated)

Great God! By chained hands

Our brows would yield under the yoke

Vile despots would themselves become

The masters of our destinies!

Refrain

Tremble, tyrants and you traitors

The shame of all parties,

Tremble! Your parricidal schemes

Will finally receive their prize! (repeated)

Everyone is a soldier to combat you,

If they fall, our young heroes,

Will be produced anew from the ground,

Ready to fight against you!

Refrain

Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors,

Bear or hold back your blows!

Spare those sorry victims,

For regretfully arming against us (repeated)

But these bloodthirsty despots

These accomplices of Bouillé

All these tigers who, mercilessly,

Tear apart their mother's breast!

Refrain

Sacred love of the Fatherland,

Lead, support our avenging arms

Liberty, cherished Liberty

Fight with your defenders! (repeated)

Under our flags may victory

Hurry to your manly accents

So that your expiring enemies

See your triumph and our glory!

Refrain

Children's verse:

We shall enter the (military) career

When our elders are no longer there

There we shall find their dust

And the trace of their virtues (repeated)

Much less keen to survive them

Than to share their coffins

We shall have the sublime pride

To avenge or follow them.