The ballad of Babe Christabel with other Lyrical Poems By Gerald Massey. Fifth Edition, Revised and Enlarged |
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THE LORDS OF LAND AND MONEY. |
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 | The ballad of Babe Christabel with other Lyrical Poems |  |
THE LORDS OF LAND AND MONEY.
Sons of Old England, from the sod,
Up-lift the noble brow!
Gold apes a mightier power than God,
And wealth is worshipt now!
In all these toil-ennobled lands
Ye have no heritage;
They snatch the fruit of youthful hands,
The staff from weary age.
O tell them in their Palaces,
These Lords of Land and Money!
They shall not kill the poor like bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
Up-lift the noble brow!
Gold apes a mightier power than God,
And wealth is worshipt now!
In all these toil-ennobled lands
Ye have no heritage;
They snatch the fruit of youthful hands,
The staff from weary age.
196
These Lords of Land and Money!
They shall not kill the poor like bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
Thro' long dark years of blood and tears,
We've toil'd like branded slaves,
Till Wrong's red hand hath made a land
Of paupers, prisons, graves!
But our long-sufferance endeth now,
Within the souls of men
The fruitful buds of promise blow,
And Freedom lives again!
O tell them in their Palaces,
These Lords of Land and Money!
They shall not kill the poor like bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
We've toil'd like branded slaves,
Till Wrong's red hand hath made a land
Of paupers, prisons, graves!
But our long-sufferance endeth now,
Within the souls of men
The fruitful buds of promise blow,
And Freedom lives again!
O tell them in their Palaces,
These Lords of Land and Money!
They shall not kill the poor like bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
Too long have Labour's nobles knelt
Before exalted “Rank;”
Within our souls the iron is felt—
We hear our fetters clank!
A glorious voice goes throbbing forth
From millions stirring now,
Who yet before these Gods of earth
Shall stand with unblencht brow.
O tell them in their Palaces,
These Lords of Land and Money!
They shall not kill the poor like bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
Before exalted “Rank;”
Within our souls the iron is felt—
We hear our fetters clank!
A glorious voice goes throbbing forth
From millions stirring now,
Who yet before these Gods of earth
Shall stand with unblencht brow.
197
These Lords of Land and Money!
They shall not kill the poor like bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
| The ballad of Babe Christabel with other Lyrical Poems | |