Stuart Christie came from Glasgow
From the smoky miner's bars
Raised on stories of Red Clydeside
And the Spanish Civil War
Of those brave working-class Scots
Who bled and died in Spain
Their spirit was handed down
So that it might rise again
20 years after Hitler
At the start of Vietnam
20 years before the Miners' Strike
The struggle carried on
And the the stories of the tortured
And the executions came
To the miners' bars of Glasgow
From the jails of Franco Spain
Stuart Christie, the anarchist
He heard his comrades' cries
Those brave enough to fight
To keep the idea alive
Whose voices sounded clear
Through the iron, stone, and brick
The echoes of the fallen dreams
Of 1936
Young Stuart gave the word
To add his actions to the cause
With those hardened CNTistas
Who carried on the war
In the footsteps of Durutti
Ramón and Sabaté
He carefully packed his bag
And slipped into Franco Spain
Stuart Christie walked the stone streets
With the ghosts of El Raval
Through Gothic Barcelona,
Thinking back before the war
How many gave their lives here
In the name of liberty?
Who at the front and at the barricades
Fought proudly to be free?
But how many could possibly
Survive the fascist tanks?
That stormed across the continent
Pumped up by Wall Street banks
Or the bombs from the Nazis
That burst onto the scene
And from the hearts of the people
Struck the vision and the dream
Young Stuart came from Glasgow
To the heart of Madrid
Now a coded word nod
And the waiting would begin
A bomb for General Franco
Set to even out the score
For the 100,000 murdered
In the Spanish Civil War
But the trap was set, the pieces
In place to take the man
Who'd come down from Red Glasgow
To Madrid to lend his hand
Who'd offered up his body
As a weapon of the war
Like those brave working-class Scots
Who'd done the same before
Stuart Christie, the prisoner
He took his place inside
With the brave men and women
Who refused to compromise
Who resisted Franco openly
With weapons and with words
Who robbed the banks and set the bombs
And shot the cops and soldiers
It will take time and work
To undo what has been done
To the people of this planet
In the name of fascism
Will we too stand to face it
In the places where it counts?
To pluck its fruits and find its roots
And pull them from the ground
Stuart Christie came from Glasgow
From the smokey miner's bars
Raised on stories of Red Clydeside
And the Spanish Civil War
Of those brave working-class Scots
Who bled and died in Spain
Their spirit was handed down
So that it might rise again
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