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"REBELS"
by Crosby, Ernest Howard [1856-1906]

Shoot down the rebels—men who dare
To claim their native land!
Why should the white invader spare
A dusky heathen band?
You bought them from the Spanish King,
You bought the men he stole;
You bought perchance a ghastlier thing—
The Duke of Alva's soul!
"Freedom!" you cry, and train your gun
On men who would be freed,
And in the name of Washington
Achieve a Weyler's deed.
Boast of the benefits you spread,
The faith of Christ you hold;
Then seize the very soil you tread
And fill your arms with gold.
Go, prostitute your mother-tongue,
And give the "rebel" name
To those who to their country clung,
Preferring death to shame.
And call him "loyal," him who brags
Of countrymen betrayed—
The patriot of the money-bags,
The loyalist of trade.
Oh, for the good old Roman days
Of robbers bold and true,
Who scorned to oil with pious phrase
The deeds they dared to do—
The days before degenerate thieves
Devised the coward lie
Of blessings that the enslaved receives
Whose rights their arms deny!
I hate the oppressor's iron rod,
I hate his murderous ships,
But most of all I hate, O God,
The lie upon his lips!
Nay, if they still demand recruits
To curse Manila Bay,
Be men; refuse to act like brutes
And massacre and slay.
Or if you will persist to fight
With all a soldier's pride,
Why, then be rebels for the right
By Aguinaldo's side!
Ernest Crosby.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg