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I wander thro' each charter'd streets
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow
And mark in every face i meet Mark of weakness, marks of woe In every cry of every Man, In every infants cry of fear, In every voice; in every ban The mind-forg'd manacles I hear
How the Chimney-sweepers cry Every blackning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldiers sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls
But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlots curse
Blast the new-born Infants tear And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse
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