March On!

Over on his blog the other week, John Coulthard posted about this painting, Les Conquérants (1892) by Pierre Fritel:



Seeing it was something of a holy fuck moment for me, cause it's kind of the perfect illustration for a song I wrote a wee while back, a merry little ditty called "March On!" in the mode of Alex Harvey. (I say, "in the mode of," but "shameless homage to" might be more accurate. It's not hard to spot the glaringly obvious references to The Sensational Alex Harvey Band's "Dogs of War," including the opening quote -- from John Greenleaf Whittier's "Barbara Frietchie" -- which I've co-opted and fucked-over to my own ends.) Anyway, that spurred me into another experimentation with GarageBand, to see if I couldn't realise the song as it is in me noggin. Here, then, is the result. As ever, I'm not at all satisfied with my own inability to really carry a tune, but I've tried to make up for the tonal atrocities by, as we say in Scotland, gieing it laldy. Fuck it, I like the music anyway. Not sure how well it'll come across played through computer speakers. (Assuming the embedded doohickey works; it seems to be a bit temperamental right now.) Feel free to download and annoy the neighbours by playing it very very loud through iTunes or whatever.



Here's the lyrics, for reference:

March On!

"Who so touches a hair on yon grey head
Dines like a king! March on!" he said.
"And kill them all!"

Scorched earth, torched homes,
Empty temples, toppled thrones
Of ancient scions.
March on!
Blood, burning, Babylon,
Babies' bodies buried on
The tears of Zion.
March on!
Fire, fucking fury, rape.
Are we gods or are we apes
In our dominion?
March on!
Battles, banners, knaves and fools,
Carrion for the crows and wolves,
A feast of minions.
March on!

The God of Wrath, Deus Irae,
Calls out commands, has this to say:

March on! March on!
You dogs of war
March on! March on!
With savage jaws
March on! March on!
Ravaging breath
Over the corpses of our enemies
To victory
Or to death.

Cropped hair, chopped heads,
Bodies dance as marionettes.
It's revolution!
Marchons!
Fops topped, nobs offed,
Madame Guilloutine's the job
She's the solution!
Marchons!
See the Terror, see the hell.
Where the fuck's your Pimpernel?
Buying plantations.
Marchons!
Liberty, fraternity,
And universal slavery,
In chains of salvation.
Marchons!

Dead in his bath, the martyr Marat lies.
The blood-red flag it waves, and hear the rebel cry:

March on! March on!
You dogs of war.
March on! March on!
With savage jaws.
March on! March on!
Ravaging breath,
Over the corpses of our enemies...
To victory...
Or to death.

One Great Game and one Great War,
Trenches, tanks, esprit d'corps,
Slaughter in Flanders.
March on!
Batmen at the battle lines,
Officers with cheese and wine
Don't understand us.
March on!
One big push, two little boys,
Each one had a little toy,
But no wooden horses.
March on!
Rifle rigged with bayonet,
Over the top and to your death!
Slow through the corpses.
March on!

The Lords of War, the Dukes of Mire,
Disdain the scarecrow bodies ragged on the wire.

March on! March on!
You dogs of war.
March on! March on!
With savage jaws.
March on! March on!
Ravaging breath,
Over the corpses of our enemies...
To victory...
Or to death.

Black shirts, brown shirts,
Jack-boots beating dirt.
The Jews need clearing.
March on!
Fatherland, the Reich is here,
Here's a knife for Röhm the queer.
The Reichstag's cheering.
March on!
Poland, little Belgium, France,
Silver skulls, a dandy dance,
And Europe's weeping.
March on!
Auschwitz, Belsen, Zyklon-B --
Easier than A, B, C!
Six million children sleeping.
March on!

Bring brothel trucks for Jackie Brel!
Who'll be the next in line in the next living hell?

March on! March on!
You dogs of war.
March on! March on!
With savage jaws,
March on! March on!
Ravaging breath,
Over the corpses of our enemies...
To victory...
Or to death.

Bombs, bodies, Babylon,
Burning Baghdad, bloody Somme,
Ten thousand years.
March on!
Murdered, mutilated, maimed,
Mad and blind and bloody lame,
Stumbling in fear.
March on!
Bows and arrows, gatling guns,
Vandals, Mongol hordes and Huns,
Fields flowering red.
March on!
No reason, no rhyme,
No escape, the end of time,
The future's dead!
March on!

The naked and the wild, the foolish and the brave,
The legions of the lost come crawling from the grave

March on! March on!
You dogs of war.
March on! March on!
With savage jaws.
March on! March on!
Ravaging breath,
Over the corpses of our enemies...
To victory...
Or to death.