SPEECH CHOIR PIECE
TITLE: IF I WERE A VOICE by Charles Mackay
I. If I were a voice, a persuasive voice, By warfare, jealousy, or scorn,
That could travel the wide world Or hatred of their kind,
through, I’d fly, I’d fly, on the thunder -crash,
I would fly on the beams of the morning And into their blinded bosoms flash;
light, And, all their evil thoughts subdued,
And speak to men with a gentle might, I’d teach them Christian Brotherhood.
And tell them to be true.
IV. If I were a voice, a pervading voice,
I’d fly, I’d fly, o’er land and sea,
I’d seek the kings of Earth;
Wherever a human heart might be, I’d find them alone on their beds at night
Telling a tale, or singing a song, And whisper words that should
In praise of the right – in blame of the guide them right
wrong. Lessons of priceless worth;
I’d fly more swift than the swiftest bird,
II. If I were a voice, a consoling voice, And tell them things they never heard
I’d fly on the wings of air, Truths which the ages for aye repeat
The homes of Sorrow and Guilt I’d seek, Unknown to the statesmen at their feet
And calm and truthful words I’d speak
To save them from Despair. V. If I were a voice, an immortal voice,
I’d fly, I’d fly, o’er the crowded town, I’d speak in the people’s ear;
And drop, like the happy sun-light, down And whenever they shouted ‘Liberty,’
Into the hearts of suffering men, Without deserving to be free,
And teach them to rejoice again. I’d make their error clear.
I’d fly, I’d fly, on the wings of day,
III. If I were a voice, a convincing voice, Rebuking wrong on my world-wide way,
I’d travel with the wind, And making all the Earth rejoice-
And whenever I saw the nations torn If I were a voice-an immortal voice
By warfare, jealousy, or scorn,
If I were a voice, a convincing voice,
I ‘d travel with the wind,
And whenever I saw the nations torn
DECLAMATION PIECE
TITLE: “Vengeance Is Not Ours, It’s God’s”
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so
ragged. Why are you staring at me? With my eyes I cannot see but I know that you are all staring at me. Why
are you whispering to one another? Why? Do you know my mother? Do you know my father? Did you know
me five years ago?
Yes, five years of bitterness have passed. I can still remember the vast happiness mother and I shared with each
other. We were very happy indeed.
Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard on the door and a deep silence ensued. Did the cruel Nippon’s discover
our peaceful home? Mother ran to Father’s side pleading. “Please, Luis, hide in the cellar, there in the cellar
where they cannot find you,” I pulled my father’s arm but he did not move. It seemed as though his feet were
glued to the floor.
The door went “bang” and before us five ugly beasts came barging in. “Are you Captain Luis Santos?” roared
the ugliest of them all. “Yes,” said my father. “You are under arrest,” said one of the beasts. They pulled father
roughly away from us. Father was not given a chance to bid us goodbye.
We followed them mile after mile. We were hungry and thirsty. We saw group of Japanese eating. Oh, how our
mouths watered seeing the delicious fruits they were eating,
Then suddenly, we heard a voice call, “Consuelo. . . Oscar. . . Consuelo . . . Oscar. . . Consuelo. . . Oscar. . .”
we ran towards the direction of the voice, but it was too late. We saw father hanging on a tree. . . dead. Oh, it
was terrible. He had been badly beaten before he died. . . and I cried vengeance, vengeance, vengeance!
Everything went black. The next thing I knew I was nursing my poor invalid mother.
One day, we heard the church bell ringing “ding-dong, ding-dong!” It was a sign for us to find a shelter in our
hide-out, but I could not leave my invalid mother, I tried to show her the way to the hide-out.
Suddenly, bombs started falling; airplanes were roaring overhead, canyons were firing from everywhere.
“Boom, boom, boom, boom!” Mother was hit. Her legs were shattered into pieces. I took her gently in my arms
and cried, “I’ll have vengeance, vengeance!” “No, Oscar. Vengeance, it’s God’s,” said mother.
But I cried out vengeance. I was like a pent-up volcano. “Vengeance is mine not the Lord’s”. “No, Oscar.
Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s” these were the words from my mother before she died.
Mother was dead and I was blind. Vengeance is not ours? To forgive is divine but vengeance is sweeter. That
was five years ago, five years. . .
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so
ragged. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s. . .. It’s. .. . God’s. . . It’s…
