Ireland for the Irish Rhymes and Reasons Against Landlordism with a Preface on Fenianism and Republicanism. By W. J. Linton, Formerly of the Irish "Nation" |
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THE MECHANIC |
 | Ireland for the Irish |  |
THE MECHANIC
Weaving Will may starve at work:
What doth Goldlord care?
Who calls Goldlord worse than Burke,
Landlord worse than Hare?
Gold says—“Done with, let him die!”
Landlord says the same:
Yet one “damns” monopoly,
One preserves his game.
What doth Goldlord care?
Who calls Goldlord worse than Burke,
Landlord worse than Hare?
Gold says—“Done with, let him die!”
Landlord says the same:
Yet one “damns” monopoly,
One preserves his game.
Weaving Will works day and night,
Hath his weekly wage;
Lives at best in sorry plight,
Starveth in old age.
Will's five children may not thieve,
Though Will's master may:
Stop the mill, and give them leave
To die on the highway!
Hath his weekly wage;
Lives at best in sorry plight,
Starveth in old age.
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Though Will's master may:
Stop the mill, and give them leave
To die on the highway!
Bread for work,—and work is not:
Let them die at once!
Idle Jem may be a sot,
Steady Tom a dunce.
Bread is scarce when land's untill'd,—
Trade has cheaper slaves:
Throng the town with toil unskill'd
And pestilential graves!
Let them die at once!
Idle Jem may be a sot,
Steady Tom a dunce.
Bread is scarce when land's untill'd,—
Trade has cheaper slaves:
Throng the town with toil unskill'd
And pestilential graves!
Will may starve before his loom,
Faint for lack of bread;
Seven are cramm'd in one close room,—
Fever makes their bed.
Yet those seven are England's heirs,
England's children born,—
Fourteen goodly acres theirs,
Growing golden corn.
Faint for lack of bread;
Seven are cramm'd in one close room,—
Fever makes their bed.
Yet those seven are England's heirs,
England's children born,—
Fourteen goodly acres theirs,
Growing golden corn.
What is that to Weaving Will?
What to Tom or Jem?
Wanting means and strength and skill,
What's the land to them?
Wherefore—let the land lie waste;
Overcrowd the town;
And farming Sam and Bob make haste
To pull our wages down!
What to Tom or Jem?
Wanting means and strength and skill,
What's the land to them?
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Overcrowd the town;
And farming Sam and Bob make haste
To pull our wages down!
Fourteen acres Will should own,
Yet he wanteth food:
Though he hath nor till'd nor sown,
Weaver-work is good.
What if Sam should hold the land,
Paying rent to Will?
Sam could work it bravely, and
The weaver eat his fill.
Yet he wanteth food:
Though he hath nor till'd nor sown,
Weaver-work is good.
What if Sam should hold the land,
Paying rent to Will?
Sam could work it bravely, and
The weaver eat his fill.
Why not? Ask of noble Greed!
Ask of them who hold
England's fields while English Need
Is Famine-bought and sold!
Ask the thirty thousand lords
Who bar you from the land;
But manly daring forge your words,
And when you ask, command!
Ask of them who hold
England's fields while English Need
Is Famine-bought and sold!
Ask the thirty thousand lords
Who bar you from the land;
But manly daring forge your words,
And when you ask, command!
Starved Mechanic, out on strike!
When thy breadless pine,
Think how landlords and the like
Murder thee and thine!
Lay your babes in pauper graves—
England's wronged heirs;
And know that Famine kill'd his slaves
While harvest land was theirs!
When thy breadless pine,
Think how landlords and the like
Murder thee and thine!
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England's wronged heirs;
And know that Famine kill'd his slaves
While harvest land was theirs!
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