Picture of a Factory Village 1833

For liberty our fathers' fought
Which with their blood, they dearly bought,
The factory System sets at nought.
A slave at morn, a slave at eve,
It dothe my inmost feelings grieve;
The blood runs chilly from my heart,
To see fair Liberty depart;
And leave the wretches in their chains,
To feed a vampire from their veins.
Britain's curse is now our own;
Enough to damn a King and Throne.

Thomas Mann