I Hear America Chanting by Patrick Pierson I hear America chanting, a sundry song of woe, the restless call of workers, whose strife and burden flow, from each one and their children, to the rank and file below; to the oligarch above them, whom they seek to overthrow, they sing in praise of freedom, a chorus we all know. I hear America chanting, their voices loud and strong, the rending songs of mothers, their husbands gone so long, in search of Abundantia, they suffer, the Taxman’s pawn. Whose sullied sons and daughters, will turn the angry throng, against the masked usurper, to whom our debt belongs. I hear America chanting, impassioned songs of revolt, as our patriarchal elders, face juries of death-squad dolts. As mothers of mothers so grand, refuse to do what they’re told, they lose the albatross of old age, when the Taxman asks for their vote, for a chorus of outrage will echo, in their ears; forever extolled. I hear America chanting, a plaintive cry of revenge, our sovereign rights, our free will, shall triumph in the end. The noble spirit of champions, Free Enterprise to defend, shall rise from ashen embers, of pyres heaped with lament. For those who sing of freedom, are a chorus of free men.