The Union Hymn. Poem by Samuel Bamford

Ye bards of Britain, strike the lyre,
And sing the happy Union;
In strains of patriotic fire,
O sing the happy Union.
Not distant is the welcome day,
When woe, and want, and tyranny,
Shall from our isle be swept away.
The grand epoch of Liberty
Awaits a faithful Union.

O worthy is the glorious cause,
Ye patriots of the Union;
Our fathers' rights, our fathers' laws,
Await a constant Union.
A crouching dastard sure is he
Who would not strike for liberty,
And die to set old England free
From all her load of tyranny:
Up, brave men of the Union.

Our little ones shall learn to bless
Their fathers of the Union;
And every mother shall caress
Her hero of the Union.
Our plains with plenty shall be crown'd—
The sword shall till the fruitful ground—
The spear shall prune our trees around—
And joy shall everywhere abound,
To bless a faithful Union.

Then Britain's Prince shall truly reign,
His subjects will defend him;
And free from loath'd corruption's train,
Bright honour shall attend him;
Whilst foreign despots ever more
Shall venerate our Albion's shore;
And war, with all its crime and gore,
Forgotten and for ever o'er,
Shall crown a nation's Union.