And each the other’s best assistant.
We farmers are a sort of stuff,
Tyrants will always find too tough
For them to work up into slaves,
The servile tools of lordly knaves.
Those men who till the stubborn soil,
Enlighten’d, and inured to toil,
Cannot be made to quail or cower
By traitor’s art or tyrant’s power,
They might as well attempt to chain