And shed your last Blood to oppose the Excise,
Oppose the Excise, etc.
Come on then, my Lads, who have fought and have bled,
A Tax may, perhaps, soon be laid on your Bread;
Ye Natives of Worc’ster and Devon arise,
And strike at the Root of the Cyder-Excise,
The Cyder-Excise, etc.
No longer let K—s at the H—m of the St—e,
With fleecing and grinding pursue Britain’s Fate;
Let Power no longer your Wishes disguise,