Explore "The Militants (Rhymes for the Times)" by Harry Graham on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Though Man, who alas! is our master, / Declares us unfit to be free, / Ignoring the placards we playfully plaster / On paling and pavement and tree; / And though ev'ry journal, with cunning infernal, / Our speeches refuses to quote, / Our conduct bears witness to feminine fitness, / And shows we are ripe for the Vote!
On roofs and in cellars we've hidden, / We've chained ourselves firmly to posts, / Attended receptions, without being bidden, / And heckled political hosts. / With dog-whip and missile, with bell and with whistle, / Our cause we have sought to promote; / By scratching and squalling, by biting and brawling, / We've proved ourselves fit for the Vote!