A DEMAGOGUE
"Yawp, yawp, yawp!
Under the moon and sun.
It's aye the rabble,
And I to gabble,
And hey! for the tale that is never done.
"Chant, chant, chant!
To woo the reluctant vote.
I would I were dead
And my say were said
And my song were sung to its ultimate note.
"Stab, stab, stab!
Ah! the weapon between my teeth--
I'm sick of the flash of it;
See how the slash of it
Misses the foeman to mangle the sheath!
"Boom, boom, boom!
I'm beating the mammoth drum.
My nethermost tripes
I blow into the pipes--
It's oh! for the honors that never come!"
'Twas the dolorous blab
Of a tramping "scab"--
'Twas the eloquent Swift
Of the marvelous gift--
The wild, weird, wonderful gift of gab!
IGNIS FATUUS
Weep, weep, each loyal partisan,
For Buckley, king of hearts;
A most accomplished man; a man
Of parts--of foreign parts.
Long years he ruled with gentle sway,
Nor grew his glory dim;
And he would be with us to-day
If we were but with him.
Men wondered at his going off
In such a sudden way;
'Twas thought, as he had come to scoff
He would remain to prey.
Since he is gone we're all agreed
That he is what men call
A crook: his very steps, indeed,
Are bent--to Montreal.
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