The song is from 1974, Björn Söderberg was killed 1999. Dan Berglund himself dedicated the song to all those who die annually in Swedish industry. In the LP envelope there is a picture from Skogskyrkogården in Karlskoga on the seven graves that together form a star. They were seven of the eleven who died in a workplace accident at Bofors in 1940 and which is one of Sweden's worst workplace accidents.

The original lyric was "Study Marx and Lenin and unite" but Dan Berglund himself has changed it to "Make sure to wake up and unite at some point".

The punk band EAK (abbreviation for: Eld Attack Krossa) has in its cover from 1995 updated the lyrics to Peter Wallenberg. Both Jakob and Peter are dead today but Jakob (the younger) and Peter (the younger) have taken over.

This is stunning. A few years ago I posted an english translation to this song hoping that it would reach a wider audience. Regardless of my efforts, look like it has. Kudos from Minneapolis

This translation of Dan Berglund's Swedish song for those killed in the workplace is dedicated to Björn Söderberg, murdered by fascists for exposing their infiltration of his local union. The struggle is against both the paramilitary violence of the fascists, and the daily structural violence of capitalism.

Key of Bm, performed on a bouzouki, D pennywhistle, and bodhran.


Bm A Bm 
I ate my oats, and read the morning news
D A
Kissed my wife goodbye, and then put on my boots
F#m A Bm 
Underneath the stars my footprints in the snow
Bm A Bm 
Marked the road that 13 years have seen me come and go

On that day, the north wind blew around
We were welding on a platform, 30 meters off the ground 
I heard a crash, and someone shouted Sven
It disappeared in blood and fire and darkness fell again

As I woke up, in a box made out of pine, 
I figured I’d be damned, it’s the end of the line 
My wife’s was pale as ice and tears fell from her eyes
While the priest prayed unto god with his nose turned to the sky

And I was lowered into my simple hole
Twiddling my thumbs in the midnight of my soul
“Dear Comrade and Corpse”, some distant voice there said
Welcome to the Free Republic of the Murdered Dead 

And there in the rocks, roots, sand, and soil
People lay in rows, the whole ground was full 
Of women and men who’d worked on everything
And the earth shook from their voices as they all began to sing 

We are the dead of the factories and the mines, 
Of fisheries and lumber mills, butchered like swine  
500 every years, bled out from the herd
And the greatest of the murderers in Jacob Wallenberg

We are the ones who ran the factory lines, 
Carried out like firewood and stacked up in the pines
We bowed before our killer and made sure his belly grew
While the parties and the unions were spit-shining his shoes 

Now we shout for revenge, so everyone can hear
Our bitter song in the roar of engines and of gears
In the whisper of the pines, and in the north wind’s breath
Demanding you to do your duty and avenge our death

We sing for you through the noise of the machines, 
Let every strike carve out for us the pathway to be free 
Class against class, that’s the battle we must fight
And we will rise in silence and be marching at your side

Free Republic of the Murdered

Folk musician, carpenter, and anarchist. Former member of the Wooden Shoe Ramblers. 
Website: https://edoylemusic.weebly.com/
Bandcamp: https://emmettdoyle.bandcamp.com/album/rust-belt-ballads
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/emmettdoyle
WSR: https://woodenshoeramblers.bandcamp.com/releases

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