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It was the plowing song I had first heard from the peasant in the mines. - (Outlaw of Gor, Chapter 23, Sentence #225)

I was carried through the streets and others of the rebels, appearing from doorways and windows, almost from the very stones of the street, joined what turned into a procession of triumph. The voices of these haggard but transformed men began to sing. I recognized the tune. It was the plowing song I had first heard from the peasant in the mines. It had become the anthem of the revolution. Lara, as mystified as I, ran along with the men, staying as close to me as the jostling crowds permitted. Thus borne aloft, from street to street, in the midst of joyous shouting, weapons raised on all sides in salute, my ears ringing with the plowing song, once a song of the freeholds of Tharna, long since supplanted by the Great Farms, I found myself brought to that fateful Kal-da shop I remembered so well, where I had dined in Tharna and had awakened to the treachery of Ost. - (Outlaw of Gor)