The well loved, noble, good Queen Vic
Reigned long years upon the English throne
But here is Wales I’ve hoiked my pick
Hewn coal, breathed iron and then traipsed home.
My fellow men we gather here
We sing a song and raise a cheer
But it’s a grim and cursed life
That’s never free from endless strife.
It was to be the day of days
A march for freedom just for Wales
Us Chartists overthrow the throne
And make the government our own.
Alas, alack a wretch has told
For Megan will not with me grow old
We’re all arrested, no longer free
Transportation for life or hang on tree.
Will we the brave remembered be?
Who fought that night for the Big Country
A mural painted on the wall
Is all that’s left of Chartist’s fall.
They say the pen can mightier be
Than sword or spear or violent melee
So here’s a draft to simply say
Remember those who left this way.