The Silesian Weavers

No tears from their gloomy eyes are flowing,
They sit at the loom, their white teeth showing:
“Thy shroud, O Germany, now weave we,
“A threefold curse we’re weaving for thee,--
“We’re weaving, we’re weaving!

“A curse on the God to whom our petition
“We vainly address’d when in starving condition;
“In vain did we hope, and in vain did we wait,
“He only derided and mock’d our sad fate,--
“‘re weaving, we’re weaving!

“A curse on the King of the wealthy, whom often
“Our misery vainly attempted to soften;
“Who takes away e’en the last penny we’ve got,
“And lets us like dogs in the highway be shot,--
“We’re weaving, we’re weaving!

“A curse on our fatherland false and contriving,
“Where shame and disgrace alone are seen thriving,
“Where flowers are pluck’d before they unfold,
“Where batten the worms on corruption and mould,--
“We’re weaving, we’re weaving!

“The shuttle is flying, the loom creaks away,
“We’re weaving busily night and day;
“Thy shroud, Old Germany, now weave we,
“A threefold curse we’re weaving for thee,--
“We’re weaving, we’re weaving!”