There are twenty fine schemes held up by the great,
To deceive silly souls, d’ye see?
And render them passive for pure conscience sake,
And mould them to fell tyranny;
Yet for all their fine arts with their priests in their aid,
Their threats and their deep policy,
I’ll laught them to scorn, while loudly I sing,
The Rights of Man boys for me.

This world for the poor they say never was made,
Their portion in the heav’ns be,
And say that they envy them their happy lot,
So certain’s their felicity;
But thank them for nought, if the heavens they could lett,
Few joys there the poor would e’er see,
For rents they must toil, and for taxes to boot,
The Rights of Man then for me.

Then cheer up all you who have long been oppress’d,
Aspire unto sweet liberty,
No fetters were form’d for a nation to bind,
That had the brave wish to be free;
To Gallia then look and blush at your chains,
And shake off all vile slavery,
And let each man sing, till loud echoes ring,
The Rights of Man boys for me.

As for me though in prison I oft have been cast,
Because I would dare to be free,
And though in black Newgate I now pen this song,
My theme I’ve not altered you see,
In jail or abroad whatever betide,
My struggles for freedom shall be.
Whate’er fate bring, I shall think, speak and sing,
The Rights of Man boys for me.