 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Cooper |  |
287
CHARTIST SONG.
The time shall come when Wrong shall
end,
When peasant to peer no more shall bend—
When the lordly Few shall lose their sway,
And the Many no more their frown obey.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done—
Till the struggle is o'er, and the Charter's won!
When peasant to peer no more shall bend—
When the lordly Few shall lose their sway,
And the Many no more their frown obey.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done—
Till the struggle is o'er, and the Charter's won!
The time shall come when the artisan
Shall homage no more the titled man—
When the moiling men who delve the mine
By Mammon's decree no more shall pine.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done—
Till the struggle is o'er and the Charter's won!
Shall homage no more the titled man—
When the moiling men who delve the mine
By Mammon's decree no more shall pine.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done—
Till the struggle is o'er and the Charter's won!
The time shall come when the weavers' band
Shall hunger no more, in their fatherland—
When the factory child can sleep till day,
And smile while it dreams of sport and play.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done—
Till the struggle is o'er, and the Charter's won!
Shall hunger no more, in their fatherland—
When the factory child can sleep till day,
And smile while it dreams of sport and play.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done—
Till the struggle is o'er, and the Charter's won!
The time shall come when Man shall hold
His brother more dear than sordid gold—
When the Negro's stain his freeborn mind
Shall sever no more from human—kind.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free—
Till Justice and Love hold jubilee!
His brother more dear than sordid gold—
When the Negro's stain his freeborn mind
Shall sever no more from human—kind.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free—
Till Justice and Love hold jubilee!
The time shall come when kingly crown
And mitre for toys of the Past are shown—
When the Fierce and False alike shall fall,
And Mercy and Truth encircle all.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free—
Till Mercy and Truth hold jubilee!
And mitre for toys of the Past are shown—
288
And Mercy and Truth encircle all.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free—
Till Mercy and Truth hold jubilee!
The time shall come when earth shall be
A garden of joy, from sea to sea—
When the slaughterous sword is drawn no more,
And goodness exults from shore to shore.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free—
Till goodness shall hold high jubilee!
A garden of joy, from sea to sea—
When the slaughterous sword is drawn no more,
And goodness exults from shore to shore.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free—
Till goodness shall hold high jubilee!
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Cooper | |