| We have new paper money, and railway tracks
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| We paid for the war with our new income tax
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| But too many soldiers are home from the war
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| Looking for work with us miserable poor
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| Me and all the family put on our Sunday best
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| We walked down to Saint Peter’s Field to hear Hunt and the rest
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| Thousands were gathered, in perfect peace and calm
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| There for to listen, intending no harm
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| But before Mister Hunt or the others could talk
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| Many armed constables among us did walk
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| We quietly linked arms, the speakers to protect
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| But the magistrates grew fearful, and trouble did suspect
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| Concerned for the city, they called the yeomanry
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| And Hussars who’d fought at Waterloo, they say, for you and me
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| They crushed us with their horses, all swaggering and proud!
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| And tried to reach the constables, lost among the crowd
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| The brutal yeoman cavalry attacked the people first
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| Farmers and their loaners, by far they were the worst
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| Drawing out their sabers, they slashed through the crowd
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| Men woman and children, all screaming out loud
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| Farmers and their loaners, oh yes they wore the worst
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| Why was this country England with violence so cursed? |