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Faustus
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Slaves
Men of England you are slaves,
Though you quell the roaring waves.
Though you boast by land and sea,
That Britons everywhere are free.
Men of England you are slaves,
Bought by tyrants, sold by knaves.
Yours the toil, the sweat and pain,
Theirs the profit, the ease and gain.
Men of England you are slaves,
Beaten by the policeman's staves.
If their force you dare repel,
Yours shall be the prison cell.
Men of England you are slaves,
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Even the House of Commons craves,
From the crown on bended knee.
That it's motions may be free.
Men of England you are slaves,
Hark the stormy tempest raves.
Tis the nation's voice I hear,
Shouting, 'Liberty is near'
Europe's people one and all,
Rise up at your brethren's call.
Shouting loud from sea to sea,
'Ours shall be the Victory'
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