Spirit of liberty, rise from your grave,
Make him free, make him free, rescue the slave.
Freely the slave-master goes where he will;
Freemen, stand ready, his wish to fulfil,
Helping the tyrant, or honest or knave,
Thinking not, caring not, for the poor slave.
Talk not of liberty, liberty’s dead;
See the slave-master’s whip over our head;
Stooping beneath it, we ask what he craves,
Boston, boys! Boston boys! catch me my slaves.