The grip of the Sabbath day In London town the only sound Is a whisper in an alleyway Men put on their gloves and boots Have a smoke before they go From the west there is a warning of A wind about to blow
Like Caesar marching to the East Marches Mosley with his men Dressed in their clothes of deepest black Like a gathering hurricane
This is the British Union With its flag of black and red A flag that casts a shadow in Berlin and in Madrid
So listen to the sound of marching feet And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street Fists and stones and batons and the gun With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down
So mile by mile they come on down To a place called Cable Street And other men are waiting there Preparations are complete Mosley comes so close They now can see his outstretched arm A hand raised up that way Never took the future in its palm
Listen to the sound of marching feet And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street Fists and stones and batons and the gun With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down
The battle broke as the fists and the batons fell Through the barricades came the sound of the wounded yells Jack Spot burst through with a chair leg made of lead Brought down a crashing blow on Mosley's head
And so we learn from history generations have to fight And those who crave for mastery Must be faced down on sight
And if that means by words, by fists, by stones or by the gun Remember those who stood up for Their daughters and their sons
Listen to the sound of marching feet And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street Fists and stones and batons and the gun With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down
Listen to the sound of marching feet And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street Fists and stones and batons and the gun With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down