(_BY A LABOURING ELECTOR._)
Cheer up, cheer up, you sons of toil, and listen to my song.
The times should much amuse you; you are up, and going strong.
The Working Men of England at length begin to see
That _their_ parsnips for to butter now the Parties all agree.
_Chorus._
_It's high time that the Working Men should have it their own way,_
_And their prospect of obtaining it grows brighter every day!_
This is the time for striking, lads; at least, it strikes me so.
Monopoly has had some knocks, and under it must go.
NORWOOD we licked; LIVESEY licked us; his was an artful plan;
But luck now turns. Ask JOHNNY BURNS, and also TOMMY MANN!
_Chorus_--It's high time, &c.
It isn't "Agitators" now, but Parties and M.P.'s,
Who swear we ought to have our way, and do as we darn please.
Upon my word it's proper fun! A man should love his neighbour;
Yet Whigs hate Tories, Tories Whigs; but oh! they _all_ love _Labour_!
_Chorus_--It's high time, &c.
There's artful JOEY CHAMBERLAIN, he _looks_ as hard as nails,
But when he wants to butter _us_, the Dorset never fails;
He lays it on so soft and slab, not to say thick and messy.
He _couldn't_ flummerify us more were each of us a JESSE!
_Chorus_--It's high time, &c.
Then roystering RANDOM takes his turn; _his_ treacle's pretty thick;
_He_ gives the Tories the straight tip,--and don't they take it--quick?
And now, by Jove, it's comical!--where _will_ the fashion end?--
There's PARNELL ups and poses as the genuine Labourer's Friend!
_Chorus_--It's high time, &c.
Comrades, it makes me chortle. The Election's drawing nigh,
And Eight Hours' Bills, or anything, they'll _promise_ for to try.
They'll spout and start Commissions; but, O mighty Labouring Host,
Mind your eye, and keep it on them, or they'll have you all on toast!
_Chorus._
_It's high time that the Working Men should have it their own way._
_They'll strain their throats,--you mind your votes, and you may find it pay!_
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