But the parson arm-in-arm with Hodge, as merry as could be?
He thought of those sharp words, brother, I gave him yesterday—
When I refused to tell him, brother, if we should vote his way.
Now they may lose our votes brother, they think we’re in the right,
Although they failed to see our wrongs till Gladstone gave them light.
They may call us cruel-hearted—I care not what they say—
For we will vote by ballot, brother—why should we vote their way?
You must wake me and poll early—poll early, my brother dear—
That morrow will be the merriest time of all this glad new year!
That morrow may be to all of us our emancipation day,