Songs, Song

When a lodge of Free-masons are cloth'd in their aprons, In order to make a new brother, With firm hearts and clean hands, they repair to their stands, And justly support one another.

Trusty brother, take care, of eve-droppers beware, 'Tis a just and a solemn occasion; Give the Word and the Blow, that workmen may know, There's one asks to be made a Freemason The Master stands due and his officers too, While the craftsmen are plying their station; The apprentices stand, right for the command Of a Free and an Accepted Mason.

Now traverse your ground, as in duty you're bound, And revere the authentic oration, That leads to the way, and proves the first ray Of the light of an Accepted Mason.

Here's Words, and here Signs, and here's Problems and Lines, And here's room too for deep speculation; Here Virtue and Truth are taught to the Youth, When first he's call'd up to a Mason.

Hieroglyphics shine bright, and here light reverts light On the rules and the tools of vocation, We work and we sing, the Craft and the king, 'Tis both duty and choice in a Mason. What is said or is done, is here truly laid down In this form of our high installation; Yet I challenge all men to know what I mean, Unless he's an Accepted Mason.

The Ladies claim right to come into our light, Since the apron, they say, is their bearing, Can they subject their will, can they keep their tongues still, And let talking be changed into hearing?

This difficult task is the least we can ask, To secure us on sundry occasions; When with this they comply, our utmost we'll try To raise lodges for lady Free-masons.

Till this can be done, must each brother be mum, Tho' the fair-one should wheedle and teaze on; Be just, true, and kind, but still bear in mind, At all times that you are a Free-mason.