Come all you men of freedom,
Wherever you may be,
I pray you give attention,
And listen unto me.
It’s of this strike in Preston town,
Their courage being good,
I do believe they will stand firm
Whilst they have life and blood.
So now, my boys, don’t daunted be,
But stand out to the fray;
We ne’er shall yield, nor quit the field,
Until we’ve won the day.

In eighteen forty-seven, my boys,
I am sorry for to say,
They took from us the ten per cent.,
Without so much delay;
And now we want it back again,
Our masters, in a pout,
Said they would not grant it us,
So we’re every one locked out.
So now, &c.

There’s Blackburn and there’s Stockport, too,
As I have heard them say,
Are ready to support us now,
And cheer us on our way.
So all unite into one band,
And never do consent
To go into your mills again,
Without the ten per cent.
So now, &c.

In Preston town I do believe,
The masters are our foes,
But some of them, before it’s long,
Will wear some ragged clothes.
But we’ll unite both one and all,
And never will lament,
When this great war is ceased,
About the ten per cent.
So now, &c.

The winter it is coming on,
It will be very cold,
But we’ll stand out for our demand,
Like warriors so bold.
But if the masters don’t give way,
And firmly give consent,
We’ll stand out till their mills do fall,
All for the ten per cent.
So now, &c.

Now to conclude and make an end
Of this my simple song,
I hope the masters will give in,
And that before it’s long.
Before the masters’ tyranny
Shall rule our rights and laws,
We’ll have another strike, my boys,
If ever we have cause.
So now, &c.