To sadden our First o' May, brother, to sadden our First o' May!
The labourers of Paris, and the toilers of Berlin,
Will throng to shout for shorter hours, homes happier, and more "tin."
Why even the chilly Times, chummy, is almost constrained to say
There is sense in our First o' May, chummy, hope from our First o' May.
The Governments are a-gog, brother, Figaro owns as much;
Property quakes when the countless hands of Labour are in touch.
And from Bermondsey to Budapest they are in touch to-day,
Linked for the Feast of May, brother, linked for the Feast of May!
So we must wake and turn out early, bright and early, comrade, dear;