Men! If Manhood Still Ye Claim, If The Northern Pulse Can Thrill, Roused By Wrong Or Stung By Shame, Freely, Strongly Still; Let The Sounds Of Traffic Die: Shut The Mill-Gate, Leave The Stall, Fling The Axe And Hammer By; Throng To Faneuil Hall! Wrongs Which Freemen Never Brooked, Dangers Grim And Fierce As They, Which, Like Couching Lions, Looked On Your Fathers' Way; These Your Instant Zeal Demand, Shaking With Their Earthquake-Call Every Rood Of Pilgrim Land, Ho, To Faneuil Hall! From Your Capes And Sandy Bars, From Your Mountain-Ridges Cold, Through Whose Pines The Westering Stars Stoop Their Crowns Of Gold; Come, And With Your Footsteps Wake Echoes From That Holy Wall; Once Again, For Freedom'S Sake, Rock Your Fathers' Hall! Up, And Tread Beneath Your Feet Every Cord By Party Spun: Let Your Hearts Together Beat As The Heart Of One. Banks And Tarrifs, Stocks And Trade, Let Them Rise Or Let Them Fall: Freedom Asks Your Common Aid, Up, To Faneuil Hall! Up, And Let Each Voice That Speaks Ring From Thence To Southern Plains, Sharply As The Blow Which Breaks Prison-Bolts And Chains! Speak As Well Becomes The Free: Dreaded More Than Steel Or Ball, Shall Your Calmest Utterance Be, Heard From Faneuil Hall! Have They Wronged Us? Let Us Then Render Back Nor Threats Nor Prayers; Have They Chained Our Free-Born Men? Let Us Unchain Theirs! Up, Your Banner Leads The Van, Blazoned, "Liberty For All!" Finish What Your Sires Began! Up, To Faneuil Hall