You gentlemen and tradesmen
who ride about at will,
Look down on these poor people,
it's enough to make you krill.
Look down on these poor people
as you ride up and down,
I'm sure that as a god above
they'll bring your pride quite down.
You tyrants of England,
your race may soon be rum,
You may be brought into account
for what you've surely done.
You pull down our wages
and shamefully to tell
You're going to the markets
and you say you cannot sell
And when that we do ask you
and these bad times'll mend
You quickly give an an swer
when the war's at a turn end
You tyrant of England,
your race may soon be wrong
You may be brought into account
for what you've sorely done
When we look on our poor children
it grieves our hearts full sore
The clothing it is worn to rags
and we can get no more
With little in their bellies
as they to work must go
While yours do dress as manky
as monkeys in the show
You tyrants of England,
your race may soon be run
You may be brought into account
for what you've sorely
done
You've got a church on Sundays,
and I'm sure it's notebook pride
There can be no religion
when humanity's thrown aside
If there be a place in heaven,
as there is in the exchange
Apostles they may not come near,
like lost sheep they must range
You tyrants of England,
your race may soon be run
You may be brought into account
for what you've sorely done
And you say that Bonaparty
has been the spoil of all
And that we've got good reason
for to pray for his downfall
Well Bonaparty's dead and gone
and it is plainly shown
That we've got bigger tyrants
in bonies of our own
You tyrants of England,
your age may soon be wrong
You may be brought into account
for what you've sorely done
And now, my lads,
for to conclude,
it's time to make an end
Let's see if we can form a plan
that these bad times'll mend
Then give us our old prices
as we have had before
And we can live in happiness
and rub off the old score
You tyrants of England,
your race may soon be run
You may be brought into account
for what you've solely done