作曲 : Mitchell/Peaslee/WEISS
 编曲 : Joshua Rifkin
 制作人 : Mark Abramson
 指挥家 : Joshua Rifkin
 作词 : Mitchell/Peaslee/WEISS
Four years after the revolution and the old king's execution
Four years after I remember how those courtiers took their final vow
String up every aristocrat
Out with the priests and let them live on their fat
Four years after we started fighting
Marat keeps on with his writing
Four years after the Bastille fell
He still recalls the old battle yell
Down with all of the ruling class
Throw all the generals out on their arse
Why do they have the gold
Why do they have the power
Why why why why why
Do they have the friends at the top
Why do they have the jobs at the top
We've got nothing
Always had nothing
Nothing but holes and millions of them
Living in holes dying in holes
Holes in our bellies and holes in our clothes
Marat we're poor
And the poor stay poor
Marat don't make us wait anymore
We want our rights and we don't care how
We want our revolution now
Four years he fought and he fought unafraid
Sniffing down traitors by traitors betrayed
Marat in the courtroom Marat underground
Sometimes the otter and sometimes the hound
Fighting all the gentry and fighting every priest
The businessman the bourgeois the military beast
Marat always ready to stifle every scheme
Of the sons of the arse licking dying regime
We've got new generals our leaders are new
They sit and they argue and all that they do
Is sell their own colleagues and ride upon their backs
Or jail them or break them or give them all the axe
Screaming in language that no one understands
Of the rights that we grabbed with our own bleeding hands
When we wiped out the bosses and stormed through the wall
Of the prison they told us would outlast us all
Marat we're poor
And the poor stay poor
Marat don't make us wait anymore
We want our rights and we don't care how
We want our revolution now
Poor old Marat they hunt you down
The bloodhounds are sniffing all over the town
Just yesterday your printing press was smashed and they are asking your home address
Poor old Marat in you we trust
You work till your eyes turn as red as rust
But why are you write
They are on your track
The boots’re on the staircase
The door’s thrown back
Poor old Marat in you we trust
You work till your eyes turn as red as rust
Poor old Marat
We trust in you
Marat we're poor
And the poor stay poor
Marat don't make us wait anymore
We want our rights and we don't care how
We want our revolution
Now