Song to the Men of England
1
Men so England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?
2
Wherefore feed ,and clothe ,and save, 5
From the cradle to the grave,
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat-----nay,drink your blood?
3
Wherefore,Bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain, and scourge, 10
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?
4
Have ye leisure , comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love's gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear 15
With your pain and with your fear?
5
The seed ye sow, another reaps;
The wealth ye find, another keeps;
The robes ye weave, another wears;
The arms ye forge ,another bears. 20
6
Sow seed ,----but let no tyrant reap;
Find wealth,----let no impostor heap;
Weave robes,---let not the idle wear;
Forge arms,----in your defence to bear.
7
Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells; 25
In hall ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought ?Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.
8
With plough and spade ,and hoe and loom,
Trace your grave ,and build your tomb, 30
And weave your winding-sheet,till fair
England be your sepulchre.
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