To ride rough-shod upon the Lords, and spit upon the Crown.
What though the bigots of the bench declared their treason vile—
What though they languish'd slowly in the felon's distant isle—
Shall we, the children of Reform, withhold our just applause
From those who loved the people and, of course, despised the laws?
We'll rear a stately monument—we'll build it fair and high,
And on the porch this graven verse shall greet the passers-by—
"IN HONOUR OF THE MARTYRS WHO THE BATTLE FIRST BEGAN
FOR THE CAUSE OF JUST FRATERNITY, AND THE EQUAL RIGHTS OF MAN!"
'Twill be a proud memorial, when we have pass'd away,