After the Primary Election.

After the Primary Election.
377.2

So strode he to the battle,
Like Joaquin in his pride;
His height was five foot three, at least,
And he had gall beside.
He cared not for the foeman,
He knew the way to fix
The enemy with money-
The opponent with tricks.

Jerusalem the Golden
Had poured her wealth on him;
No Boer has e’er beholden
(Taal dialect) A statesman half so “slim.”
He gave the word, and instant
The burnt land grew to life,
And all the wasted quarters
Hummed with the battle strife.

Where gaunt and blackened timbers
Glower o’er the wasted place,
His legions rose victorious
And shouted for His Grace;
Let other politicians
Shout in their own behoof,
He colonized our burnt-out streets,
And voted them, did Ruef.