A New Election Song
A new election song.
COME, fellow slaves, who would be free,
And let’s go hand in hand,
For GRIMSDITCH and for Liberty
We’ll boldly make a stand!
If still the blood runs in your veins
Of Briton’s sons renown’d;
Shake off the proud oppressor’s chains,
And pull the tyrant down.
In Hurdsfield you’ll this tyrant find,
To honest men a foe;
A monster of the demon kind,
Akin to him below.
To Crabmill he sometimes does go,
And there he takes his seat,
A little sanctity to show,
And make the rogue complete.
His heart must be as hard as steel,
His conscience must be dead;
For others wants he cannot feel,
But takes away their bread.
With this the tyrant’s not content,
If his object does not fail;
He intends to go to parliament
And plunder by wholesale.
Pray do not send our greatest foe
To advocate our cause,
And represent our tales of woe,
You’d better stop and pause.
Shop-keepers all, pray be aware,
Mind how you give your votes;
And dont be led into a snare
With paltry paper Notes.
Publicans, mind who buy your ale,
And dont abuse your trust,
’Twill keep your drink from growing stale,
Your glasses free from dust.
Ye Butchers too, make good your choice,
And dont elect a thief;
But pray regard the public voice,
If you would sell your beef.
Shoe-Makers who have got a voice,
Do not that voice abuse;
Remember that it is our choice
Who makes and mends our shoes.
Ye Barbers too, your credit save,
Dont vote against the poor,
Or when their chin doth want a shave,
They may walk past your door.
Ye tailors too, oppose our foe,
For if you dont you’ll rue;
He’ll pull our wages down so low,
We can’t get clothing new.
Your int’rest is with ours combin’d,
And cannot separate;
A fact I’d have you strictly mind,
Before it be too late.
For if determin’d you should be
This monster to elect;
He’ll bring you all to slavery,
And then you will reflect.