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No. 9. Storm the Fort.
Crying in the street,
Hunger's ravages revealing —
Weary, half-clad feet.
Hear the leaders cry;
Send the laboring men to congress,
With our votes, we'll try.
Tremble 'neath his load.
Hear the mother's cry of anguish,
Families sent abroad.
But our cause is dear.
Soon the laborers ranks will double,
Cheer, then brother cheer.
Up and down the street;
Laboring men have won the battle,
Victory's complete.