#peoples revolution

“Now, this is a soldier’s song, see? You don’t look like soldiers but by the gods I’ll see you sounds like ‘em! You’ll pick it up as we goes along! Right turn! March! 'All the little angels rise up, rise up, all the little angels rise up high!’ Sing it, you sons of mothers!”

The marchers picked up the response from those who knew it.

“How do they rise up, rise up, rise up, how do they rise up, rise up high? They rise headsup,headsup,heads up–” sang out Dickens as they turned the corner.

Vimes listened as the refrain died away.

“That’s a nice song,” said young Sam, and Vimes realized that he was hearing it for the first time.

“It’s an old soldier’s song,” he said.

“Really, Sarge? But it’s about angels.”

Yes, thought Vimes, and it’s amazing what bits those angels cause to rise up as the song progresses. It’s a realsoldiers’ song: sentimental, with dirty bits.

“As I recall, they used to sing it after battles,” he said. “I’ve seen old men cry when they sing it,” he added.

“Why? It sounds cheerful.”

They were remembering who they were not singing it with, thought Vimes. You’ll learn. I knowyou will.

Terry Pratchett, Night Watch