Men, fathers, brothers, will you hear
Our strong beseeching cry?
Oh! lovers, women have grown proud!
They learn to look upon a shroud,
But will not face a man who dares not die
For Liberty!
Is God's own image sunk so low,
That Money stands for Man!
Where are the arms of will and brawn?
Where is the strength we cannot pawn?
Do piles of gold wear dignity, like Man,
In this our plan?
In ancient days the nobly brave,
'T was said, should win the fair!
Now, tears shall bathe victorious feet,
Falling, as fell the ointment sweet;
To wipe these wounds, the noblest of the fair
Unbind her hair!