Chorus—It's high time, &c.
Comrades, it makes me chortle. The Election's drawing nigh,
And Eight Hours' Bills, or anything, they'll promise for to try.
They'll spout and start Commissions; but, O mighty Labouring Host,
Mind your eye, and keep it on them, or they'll have you all on toast!
Chorus.
It's high time that the Working Men should have it their own way.
They'll strain their throats,—you mind your votes, and you may find it pay!