Wake, sons of the Pilgrims, and look to your right!
The despots of Slav'ry are up in their might:
Indulge not in sleep, it's like digging the graves
Of blood-purchased freedom—'tis yielding like slaves.
Then halloo, halloo, halloo to the contest,
Awake from your slumbers, no longer delay,
But struggle for freedom, while struggle you may—
Then rally, rally, rally, rally, rally, rally,
While our forests shall wave or while rushes a river,
Oh, yield not your birth-right! maintain it for ever!
Wake, Sons of the Pilgrims! why slumber ye on?
Your chains are now forging, your fetters are done;
Oh! sleep not, like Samson, on Slavery's foul arm,
For, Delilah-like, she's now planning your harm.
Then halloo, halloo, halloo, to the contest!
Awake from your sleeping—nor slumber again,
Once bound in your fetters, you'll struggle in vain;
While your eye-balls may move, O wake up now, or never—
Wake, freemen! awake, or you're ruined forever!
Yes, freemen are waking! we fling to the breeze,
The bright flag of freedom, the banner of Peace;
The slave long forgotten, forlorn, and alone,
We hail as a brother—our own mother's son!
Then halloo, halloo, halloo, to the contest!
For freedom we rally—for freedom to all—
To rescue the slave, and ourselves too from thrall.
We rally, rally, rally, rally, rally, rally—
While a slave shall remain, bound, the weak by the stronger,
We will never disband, but strive harder and longer.