On a field of red one gold starRaised above his head
Raised above his head
He was not like any other
He was just like any otherAnd the song they bledWas a hymn to him
Awake my little one
The seed of revolution
Sewn in the sleeveOf cloth humbly worn
Where others are adorned

Above the northern plainThe great birds flyWith great wings
Over the paddy fields
And the people kneelAnd the men they toil
Yet not for their own
And the children are hungry
And the wheel groans
There before a grass hut
A young boy stood
His mother lay deadHis sisters cried for bread
And within his young heartThe seed of revolution sewn
In cloth humbly wornWhile others are adorned

And he grew into a man
Not like any otherJust like any other
One small man
A beard the color of rice
A face the color of teaWho shared the misery
Of other men in chains
With shackles on his feet
Escaped the guillotine

Who fought againstColonialism imperialism
Who remained awake
While others slept
Who penned like Jefferson
Let independence ring
And the cart of justice turns
Slow and bitterly
And the people were crying
Plant that seed that seedAnd they crawled on their bellies
Beneath the giant beast
And filled the carts with bodies
Where once had been their crops

And the great birds swarmSpread their wings overhead
And his mother deadAnd the typhoons and the rain
The jungles in flames
And the orange sun
None could be more beautifulThan Vietnam
Nothing was more beautifulThan Vietnam

And his heart stopped beating
And the wheel kept turningAnd the words he bled
Were a hymn to them
I have served the whole peopleI have served my whole country
And as I