Come keep the watch with me, the show is yours.
Behold the source of all our joy and pride,
These beasts ye harness fast and set to draw
The chariots of your pageantry and pomp.
It is this blood ye shed to make your feasts,
It is their treadmill that moves all your world.
Come sit and think how it will be with you
When God shall send his flaming angel down
And break these bars, so hath he done of yore.
So doeth he to lords and ladies grand,