Ode Men of England, ye are slaves, Though ye quell the roaring waves — Though ye boast, by land and sea, Britons everywhere are free. Men of England, ye are slaves, Bought by tyrants, sold by knaves; Your’s the toil, the sweat, the pain, Their’s the profit, ease and gain. Men of England, ye are slaves, Beaten by policemen’s staves; If their force ye dare repel, Your’s will be the felon’s cell. Men of England, ye are slaves; Ev’n the House of Commons craves From the Crown, on bended knee, That its language may be free. Men of England, ye are slaves — Hark! the stormy tempest raves — ’Tis the nation’s voice I hear, Shouting “Liberty is near.” The Northern Star, February 29, 1840 |
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