Poem by Edward P. Mead

Chartist Song

TUNE – MARCH TO THE BATTLE FIELD

Hark! ’tis the trumpet call
	Of liberty is pealing,
Rouse Britons, one and all,
	Your majesty revealing;
Rouse from your leaden sleep,
	Death is in your slumber,
Rise like the mighty deep,
	Its billows loud outnumber. 

Press round the standard, press,
	Ne’er for lucre barter, 
Your wives and children’s happiness,
	Stand firm for freedom’s Charter.
Press round our standard true,
	Again, behold ’tis flaunting 
Defiance to the despots few,
	And all their idle vaunting; 
Whig and Tory wrath we’ll brave,
	And boldly bid defiance, 
To courtly fool and priestly knave, 
	On heaven’s our sole reliance.
		Chorus:
Press round the standard, press,
	Ne’er your free rights barter, 
Universal happiness,
	Is in our glorious Charter!

Nought but freemen’s rights we claim,
	All men’s rights respecting, 
Liberty! thy sacred name!
	Thy shrine alone protecting; 
Swear by freedom’s holy name,
	By her to stand or fall man, 
Spurn a coward vassal’s chain,
	Your watchword one and all man.
		Chorus:
Press round the standard, press,
	Ne’er your free rights barter, 
Universal happiness,
	Is in our glorious Charter!

1. The Brave Old King
2. The Steam King

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