Clerkenwell Polka

I request, that the best of our minds, 
  be impressed to repent of their crimes. 
  For the truth, is there all for to see. 
  What can be said in defense of man's tyranny? 

  To declare, too content of the view, 
  that to conform to the norm is what you do. 
  If you live wracked in anger and in shame. 
  The only road you'll finds that hard road my friend. 

  I concur, to defer, to the sound 
  of discontent when it's meant by the crowd. 
  If in fairness is how you see it end 
  the only road you'll walk's that hard road my friend 

  And the papers they were printing, they did sell. 
  In Clerkenwell, there were presses turning. 
  And the emigrates they boarded ships and sailed, 
  they could not fail to bring passions burning 

  Why deny that the lie that is sent 
  Makes you live work and die for some rent 
  If you're happy then to leave it up to them 
  The only road you'll knows that hard road my friend 

  We resent the intent of the few 
  Who do conspire, to acquire, what's our due 
  If you don't know your rights, and defend. 
  The only road you'll goes that hard road my friend 

  If you fall and you crawl towards debt. 
  And the sum, it is more than what was leant. 
  If you can't keep your eyes on the change, 
  the only road you'll walk's that bloody road my friend.