Warden's SONG

My tongue shall ever run In praise of WASHINGTON; With Poetry and Music sound His fame to all the world around; And with Geometry in skilful hand, Due homage pay, Without delay. To ADAMS our great Master grand; He rules the free-born Sons of Art By love and friendship, hand and heart.

Who can rehearse the praise, In soft poetic lays, Or solid Prose, of Masons true, Whose Art transcends the common view? Their Secrets ne'er to Strangers yet expos'd, Resolv'd shall be, By Masons free, And only to the ancient lodge disclos'd; Because they're kept in masons heart, By brethren of the royal Art.