Excerpts from Might is Right by Ragnar Redbeard

The Philosophy of Power and the Logic of Today

Might was right when Caesar bled upon the stones of Rome
And might was right when Genghis led his hordes o'er Danube's foam
And might was right when German troops poured down through Paris way
It's the gospel of the ancient world and the logic of today
Behind all kings and presidents, all government and law
Are army-corps and canoneers to hold the world in awe
And sword-strong races own the earth and ride the conqueror's car
For liberty has never been won except by deeds of war
What are the lords of hoarded gold - the silent Semite rings
What are the plunder pirates, high pontiffs, priests and kings
What are they but bold master-minds, best fitted for the fray
Who comprehend and vanquish by the logic of today
Cain's knotted club is scepter still, all "Rights of Man" are fraud
Christ's ethics are for creeping things, true manhood smiles at God
For might is right when empires sink in storms of steel and flame
And it is right when weakling breeds are hunted down like game
Then what's the use of dreaming dreams, that each shall get his own
By forceless votes of meek-eyed thralls, who blindly sweat and moan
A pox is on their cankered brains, their very bones decay
Go! Trace your fate in the iron game, is the logic of today
The strong must ever rule the weak, is grim primordial law
On earth's broad racial threshing floor, the meek are beaten straw
Then ride to power o'er foemen's neck - let nothing bar your way
If you are fit you'll rule and reign, is the logic of today
You must prove you're right by deeds of might, of splendor and renown
If need be march through flames of hell to dash opponents down
If need be, die on scaffold high in the morning's misty gray
For liberty or death is still the logic of today
Might was right when Gideon led the "chosen" tribes of old
And it was right when Titus burnt their temple roofed with gold
And might was right from Bunker's Hill, to far Manilla Bay
By land and flood it's writ in blood, the gospel of today
"Put not your trust in princes" is a saying old and true
"Put not your hope in governments" translateth it anew
All books of law and golden rules are fashioned to betray
The survival of the fittest is the gospel of today
Might was right when Carthage flames lit up the Punic foam
And when the naked steel of Gaul weighed down the spoils of Rome

And Might was Right when Richmond fell - and at Thermopylae

It's the logic of the ancient world and the gospel of today
When pendant suns in millions swing around this whirling earth
It's might, it's force that holds the brakes, and steers through death and birth
Force governs all organic life, inspires all right and wrong
It's nature's plan to weed out man and test who are the strong!

Boldly Stand Erect

Jewish books are for the Jews,
And Jew Messiahs, too.
But if you're not of Jewish blood,
How can they be for you?
To make an idol of a book,
Is poison for the brain;
A dying God upon a cross
Is reason gone insane.
Beware of all the holy books
And all the creeds and schools,
And every law that man has made
And all the golden rules.
"Laws" and "rules" imposed on you
From days of old renown,
Are not intended for your good
But for your crushing down.
Then dare to rend the chains that bind
And to yourself be true.
Dare to liberate your mind,
From all things, old and new.
Always think your own thought,
All other thoughts reject;
Learn to use your own brain
And boldly stand erect!

Hate for Hate

Hate for hate,
and ruth for ruth.
Eye for eye,
and tooth for tooth.
Scorn for scorn,
and smile for smile.
Love for love,
and guile for guile.
War for war,
and woe for woe.
Blood for blood,
and blow for blow!

Hear Tigers Snarl

Above the Senate's brawl The maddening roar for gain,
Do you hear the Christmas Carol The felons clanking chains,
Behind yon prison walls,
Your leg-ironed comrade slaves,
While here in marble walls
Are harlots, knights and knaves.
Your comrades rot in gaol The hungry cry for bread,
Your wives are thin and pale,
Their hearts are filled with dread,
And earth resounds with praise
In holy, heavenly tones,
While tigers prowl the land
To crush your children's bones.
Ho! Men of New South Wales,
Hark! hear the fetters clink!
Are you but eunuch-churls
That only scream and slink?
If you were virile men,
You'd raise your strong right arm,
Beard tigers in their den
To guard your mates from harm.
You live the life of dogs,
You tug and scat and strain,
Your back the slaver flogs
While raking in his gain;
You see your sisters starve,
You see them on the marts,
You hear the tigers snarl
While rending out their hearts.
O men of New South Wales,
Behold your ruffian horde,
Who spurn you with their hoof,
And bash you with the sword;
Behold the butcher band
That shear and tan your hide.
Have you not grit to stand
And tame their wolfish pride?
You rise to voice your wrongs,
They club you for your pains,
Wheel out their murderous guns
To scatter, splash your brains;
They steal your public lands,

They steal the cash you earn,

Ho! Cringe to their commands,
You're only dogs not men.
In glittering halls they feast Harlots, knights and knaves While inside prison walls
Your leg-ironed comrade slaves.
Ho! Men of New South Wales,
Hark! hear the fetters clink!
Are ye but eunuch-slaves,
That only scream and slink?

To Each His Own

Some slay with spear and some with sword.
Some have no battle plan,
Some stab with venom's subtle word,
Each does the best he can,
And each man gets what he can winGreat wealth, great love, or fame;
The conqueror gets his just reward,
The conquered gets his shame,
The weak ones wear a crown of thorns,
Or bleat in living hell,
The strong man crowns himself with gold,
And all the world is well,
And each man gains what others lose,
No use to reason why,
Each plants his heel on fallen foes,
By Love, or Law, or Lie.

From the introduction

"In this book and wilderness of Steel and Stone I raised up my voice that you may hear....To the
East and West I beckon, to the North and South I show a sign, Proclaiming Death to the Weakling,
Wealth to the Strong....I break away from all conventions. Alone, untrammeled I raise up my voice
in stern invasion. The Standard of the Strong. No hoary falsehood shall be a truth to me. No cult, no
dogma shall encramp my pen. Man is under no obligation to obey anything or anybody."