Chorus.
Then be it the duty of every man
To fight for the franchise as hard as he can,
And teach gilded puppets, whoever they be,
That England from fossilised claims will be free.
For who are the handful of lords who assume
The right thus to silence the millions to doom?
Why, the answer is plain, they are bubbles which dream
They rule, since they float upon Time’s mighty stream.
But the bubbles, though gilded and gay they appear,