Let this conniption cure
Ailing kidneys of my country,
Let my land’s liver endure
The hard knuckles of her gentry.
Let the mute keening
In the lungs of patriots
Survive the length of this evening
Of hope fading in clay chariots -
And let these millions rise
To rid the land of pestilence
Everywhere present in the eyes
Of bastards here and across the fence.