We thought that Godfrey’d gone away Although we’d begged him please to stay “There’s so much work, death’s not your fate Without your help the load’s too great!”
How will we print the papers and leaflets? How will we know the place to meet? Who will support us when we’re down? Who’ll make sure we’ve got what we need?
Who will correct us when we’re in a muddle? Who will make sure we study and read? Who will be ready with a smile and a joke? How can the Party from now on proceed?
But Godfrey hasn’t lived and fought in vain. He’s transferred himself into the fabric of being Of every comrade he knew and inspired And he lives on inside us without our seeing.
He’ll always be there to give us guidance, To spur us on to work a bit harder To gently tease us out of despondence To share his love, his wisdom, his laughter.
We will hear his voice from deep inside If ever we think there is time to skive If we think we can’t follow his selfless devotion If picking up his baton seems an impossible notion,
If we run from our duty to serve the working class And stop striving to build competent leadership If we stray away from revolution’s path In search of cheap popularity and hero worship
Be sure he will notice and he will care And his voice will follow us everywhere: “I may be gone but I’m not forgotten; And if you don’t pull your weight, I’ll bother you rotten”.
