We want no Tory government, The poor man to oppress, They never try to do you good, The truth you will confess. The Liberals are the poor man’s friend, To forward all they try, They’ll beat their foes you may defend, And never will say, die. Great meetings are held in high parts, In country and in town, The names of Beales and Gladstone, With working men resound, Riches are but worthless dross, Without our working brother, Which proves that in our national cause We could help each other. Great praise is due to the Reform League, They have generous hearts and minds, For the prisoners taken in Hyde Park, They intend to pay the fines; At the Agricultural Hall they met, With band and flags so gay, And when they meet at Lincoln’s-Inn fields Give them a loud huzza! Then vote for manhood suffrage, And the ballot too, likewise, For Freedom of opinion, All Englishmen doth prize; And why should not a working man Have power to give his vote, To one that is the poor man’s friend, Tho’ he wears a ragged coat. If the public parks of London Are only for one class, They ought to put this notice up:-- The poor they cannot pass. It’s time our laws they altered were, You’ll say it is a bore, That one law should be for the rich, And another for the poor. An Englishman is not a slave, For that was never sent, Then give the working man his rights, You’ll find he is content; Give us the ballot and franchise, It’s the only boon we ask, Then shouts will rend the skies, For that will end our task. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles. THE GREAT REFORM MEETING On Monday, December 3rd, 1866. [Illustration] You true friend of Reform, Just listen to my song, And some truth in these verses will be found: It’s the talk throughout the nation, About the Monster Demonstration, Announc’d to take place in Ashburnham Grounds. Then, cheer for Reform, and on be marching! And you will find you will weather the storm; For depend on what I say, you will sure to gain the day, If you will lend a willing shoulder to Reform. Now when the Tories found, That in Ashburnham Grounds, England’s sons were to meet--now only mark,-- At their dirty work they got, And determined they should not, As if they wished another scene like Hyde Park. But, my lads, do not despair, There is the pure and open air, Which belong to the great and the small, And though our foes they make a fuss, There our rights we can discuss, For the song says “There’s room enough for all.”