When the Senate assembled had shut up their door,
And had left us no clew their designs to explore,
The people were anxious, and whispered their care,
But their voice was too weak for the dignified ear.
Ye are down, down, down, keep ye down.
At length the Sanhedrim were ready to rise,
And the crowd were distending their ears and their eyes;
But the rabble had nothing to hear or to view,
Says the twenty, the secret's too sacred for you,
Ye are down, down, down, keep ye down.
But Stephens T. Mason, a man we revere,
With his name bid the infamous treaty appear,
‘ Twas the act of a freeman, who join'd with the Ten,
To save us from tyranny, rank us with men,
Altho’ down, down, and like to be down.
He gave his assistance, enlighten'd our eyes,
And a cloud from all quarters begins to arise,
Vox Dei, Vox Populi, truly but one,
Shall tell dark designers — our will shall be done
Till you're down, down, twenty times down.