Daughter of Liberty, whose knife
So busy chops the threads of life,
And frees from cumbrous clay the spirit ;
Ah ! why alone shall Gallia feel
The beauties of thy ponderous steel ?
Why must not Britain mark thy merit
Hark! 'tis the dungeon's groan I hear;
And lo, a squalid band appear,
With sallow cheek and hollow eye !
Unwilling, lo, the neck they bend !
Yet, through thy power, their terrors end.
And with their heads the sorrows fly.
Oh let us view thy lofty grace !
To Britons show thy blushing face,
And bless Rebellion's life-tired train. —
Joy to my soul ! she's on her way.
Led by her dearest friends, Dismay,
Death, and the Devil, and Tom Paine.
