Land of Bandage, Land of the Free by Raul Manglapus

No wonder then,/ that the tao,/ being a slave,/ has acquired the habits of a slave.//
No wonder that after three centuries in chains,/ without freedom,/ without hope,/ he
should lose the erect and fearless posture of the freeman/ and become the bent,
misshapen,/ indolent/ vicious,/ pitiful thing that he is!// Who dares accuse him,/
who dares rise up in judgment against this man,/ reduced to this subhuman level by
three centuries of oppression?// The tao does not come here tonight to be judged-//
but to judge!// Hear then/ his accusation and his sentence.//
I indict the Spanish encomendero// for inventing taxes impossible to bear:// I indict
the usurer for saddling me with debts impossible to pay.//

I indict the irresponsible radical leaders/ who undermine with insidious eloquence/
the confidence of my kind in our government.//

You accuse me of not supporting my family.// Free me from bondage/ and I shall
prove you false.//

You accuse me of ignorance.// But I am ignorant because my master finds it

profitable to keep me ignorant.// Free me from bondage / and I shall prove you
false.//

You accuse me of indolence.// But I am indolent/ not because I have no will,./ but
because I have no hope.// Why should I labor/ if all the fruits of my labor/ go to
pay an unpayable debt?// Free me from bondage/ and I shall prove you false.//

Give me land.// Land to own.// Land ‘unbeholden to any tyrant.// Land that will be
free.// Give me land for I am starving.// Give me land that my children may not
die.// Sell it to me,/ sell it to me at a fair price./ as one freeman sells to another/ and
not as a usurer sells to a slave./// I am poor, / but I will pay it!// I will work,/ work/
until I fall from weariness for my privileges,/ for my inalienable right to be free.//

BUT IF YOU WILL NOT GRANT ME THIS… // If you will not grant me this
last request,/ this ultimate demand,// then build a wall around your home//… build
it // place a sentry on every parapet!… for I who have been silent these three
hundred years/ will come in the night when you are feasting,/ with my cry, and my
bolo at your door.// And may God/ have mercy on your soul.