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Poem by Edward P. Mead The Brave Old King AIR – “THE BRAVE OLD OAK” A song for the King, the brave Old King! The King of the poor white slaves; There’s none in the land that more nobly doth stand ’Gainst the power of the Poor Law knaves. His manly heart ever took the part Of the poor and the oppress’d; This is better far than the jewell’d star Which gleams on a despot’s breast. Chorus: Then here’s to the King, the good Old King! And long may he live and reign. A true pattern is he of what Monarchs should be: We shall never see his like again! Tho’ in prison strong for opposing wrong, In bondage sore confin’d; He has stood like a rock, spite of bolt and lock, The friend of humankind. A Briton so bold, that power nor gold Gould never turn away— From the path of right; for ‘tis his delight, And he walks in it night and day. Then here’s to the king, etc. Then ye millions who toil for the lords of the soil, And the lords of the dread steam king, Your gratitude show to the tyrants’ foe, And your cheerful tribute bring. One heart and one mind, let King Richard find, Till to freedom we him restore, And justice be done by the “Altar and Throne” To the “Cottage of the Poor.” Then here’s to the king, etc. The Northern Star, January 6, 1844 Edward P. Mead Edward P. Mead's other poems: 1372 Views |
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