The Great Battle for Freedom and Reform
You working men of England,
Who live by daily toil,
Speak for your rights, bold Englishmen,
All thro’ Britain’s isle;
The titled tories keep you down,
Which you cannot endure,
And the reason I to tell am bound,
You’re but working men—and poor.
With Gladstone, Russell, Beales, and Bright
We shall weather through the storm,
To give the working man his rights,
And gain the Bill,
—Reform.
If the Hyde Park meeting had been allowed,
No disturbance would have been.
Long life, they cried, to the Prince of Wales,
And God bless England’s Queen!
Why should the parks be ever closed
Against the poor, who for them pay,
Work with a will for equality,
And you will gain the day.
We want no Tory government,
The poor man to oppress,
They never try to do you good,
The truth you will confess.
The Liberals are the poor man’s friend,
To forward all they try,
They’ll beat their foes you may defend,
And never will say, die.
Great meetings are held in high parts,
In country and in town,
The names of Beales and Gladstone,
With working men resound,
Riches are but worthless dross,
Without our working brother,
Which proves that in our national cause
We could help each other.
Great praise is due to the Reform League,
They have generous hearts and minds,
For the prisoners taken in Hyde Park,
They intend to pay the fines;
At the Agricultural Hall they met,
With band and flags so gay,
And when they meet at Lincoln’s-Inn fields
Give them a loud huzza!
Then vote for manhood suffrage,
And the ballot too, likewise,
For Freedom of opinion,
All Englishmen doth prize;
And why should not a working man
Have power to give his vote,
To one that is the poor man’s friend,
Tho’ he wears a ragged coat.
If the public parks of London
Are only for one class,
They ought to put this notice up:—
The poor they cannot pass.
It’s time our laws they altered were,
You’ll say it is a bore,
That one law should be for the rich,
And another for the poor.
An Englishman is not a slave,
For that was never sent,
Then give the working man his rights,
You’ll find he is content;
Give us the ballot and franchise,
It’s the only boon we ask,
Then shouts will rend the skies,
For that will end our task.
Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles.