Come all you sons of toil, listen to my song, Whilst I a tale unfold of grief and wrong. It was in forty-eight, when work was scant, Our wages were reduced full ten per cent. Our masters pledge to pay, should trade revive, The ten per cent they took, the panic to survive, But now that trade is good again, Our wants we have made known, But our employers tell us, We must let well alone. Since they will not comply, with our just demand, We have resolved to bring the mills to a stand. Since we the losses of, bad trade must bare, Why not in prosperous times have our just share. Truth is on our side, with cheering ray, Help us then fellow men, to win the day.