By Peter Devonald
Pushed, poked and prodded by police,
sworn at, shouted at and spat at,
hit with riot shields, batons and lies,
horses charge, panicked and terrified.
Remain strong as our grandfathers would,
walk in footsteps of our ancestors,
fight for livelihood and all our futures,
for our children and our children’s children.
Scabs cross picket lines with fetid lies,
thirty pieces of silver, laced with strychnine.
Every evening community gathers again,
sing redemption songs for a better way.
Week after week, month after month,
a weary burden, poorer and hungrier,
kids scream, partners weep, babies go hungry,
the picket line is strong, a fight for our livelihood.
Tories don’t care about our lives, don’t care at all,
merely political footballs to their selfish whims,
a statement, a promise, for their future crimes,
we all know the future—if we don’t stop them.
This poem is one of the many from the new poetry anthology Shoulder to Shoulder: Poems to mark the 100th anniversary of the 1926 General Strike read the foreword by Sharon Graham here.
