Эрнест Чарльз Джонс (Ernest Charles Jones)

A Song for the People

AIR—" THE BRAVE OLD OAK" 

A song to the men—the working men,
        Who long in their chains have sighed,
'Neath the usurer's frown—and lord and Crown,
        And the Churchman's greedy pride.

There's strength in our bands—and our fate's in
            our hands;
        If we knew but to use our power,
The foul-class rule—of the knave and fool,
        Needn't last for a single hour.

Then down to the dust—with titled lust,
        And down with the gold king vile,
For the world shall see—that we will be free,
        And free be the sister-isle.*

In the days of old—when hearts beat bold,
        To the flap of Freedom's wing,
The dust at our feet—was the winding sheet,
        That wrapt a headless king.

Are we happier now?—No! the millions bow,
        'Neath a yoke ten times more black:
Ten times more strong—we'll march along,
        And drive the vermin back.

Then down to the dust—with titled lust,
        And down with the gold king vile,
For the world shall see—that we will be free,
        And free be the sister-isle.

Do they think we'll stand—with an idle hand,
        And starve, while they gorge their fill?
They yet may wake—to their grand mistake,
        And find there are men here still.

We seek not strife—and we value life,
        But only when life is free;
And we'll ne'er be slaves—to idle knaves,
        Whatever the cost may be.

Then down to the dust—with titled lust,
        And down with the fold king vile,
For the world shall see—that we will be free,
        And free be the sister-isle.

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