The People's Rally
Air: The Campbells are Coming
Come up to the polls! there is work to be
Come up in your strength, and the battle is
With our Clay for a leader, then enter the fight;
The people are rising, resistless in might;
Then hurrah, boys! hurrah, boys! the truth
The custom-house slaves are beginning to quail;
The elections have told them their race is near
Hurrah, boys! hurrah, boys! the battle is won!
Down, down with the rulers who've ruined the
Who have crushed all our hopes with a merci-
The men who would make our loved country
As serf-peopled Russia, or tyrannized Spain,
Who would rule our loved land with imperial
And give for our labor but sixpence per day,—
Van Buren, Buchanan, and Benton, the
Such are but fit to be rulers of slaves.
Arouse, then, ye freemen, at Liberty's call!
Arouse, in your glory, and out with them all!
Already they falter, already they reel;
The signs of defeat they 're beginning to feel;
One blow from your hands lays them low in
Arise in your ardor, and conquer you must;
Then be true to your country, to principle true,
And bold Harry Clay will be faithful to you!