Late September, summershine,

fifty thousand pair of feet

hit the streets of Manchester;

Assembly of the People

come to call on Cameron.

 

Come to cry, come to shout,

from Inverness to Somerset.

Fifty thousand mouths assault

the air in Oxford Road,

to stop the cuts today, to say

We did not give permission to sell the Welfare State.

 

The spirit of Joe Hill flew in

the flags of solidarity,

in cries to trample down the dirt -

the great lie of austerity;

to stop the cuts today, to say

We did not give permission to sell the NHS.

 

With whistles and rattles

and clapping of hands,

PCS samba band,

children in prams,

bubbles in sunshine

and rainbows in clouds,

we played the drum slowly to march.

 

I swear that Shelley was with us today,

his eloquence heating our heads.

And I thought of the few,

and the country they sold.

And we beat the drum faster to march.

 

Then as we turned the corner

into Lower Mosley Street,

the air grew thick and shimmered

with the litany of protest.

The ring of steel and batons,

the string of London Guns,

told us they were in there

and could hear the many roar.

 

We opened up collective mouths,

let grievance leave our lungs.

NO to constant cuts and caps,

to taxes on the poor!

NO to non-stop brutal chops

and private profiteers!

NO to blood-stained ATOS hands

and working for your dole!

NO to ConDem Nation,

to devastating lives!

 

The right wing rags ignored the sound

of fifty thousand pair of feet,

of fifty thousand voices

calling Tories on their lies.

They see no, hear no, speak no truth,

so silence and blank pages

censored mention of assembly;

betrayed responsibility.

 

And though we did not change the world

or overthrow the government,

we demonstrated opposition;

flagged up our resistance.

We showed a strength of unity,

community and care.

Sharpened our collective teeth,

gave succour to our souls.

 

And on this sunny Sunday,

late September,

Manchester,

we remembered Shelley

‘Ye are many - they are few’.