Political

Political.
248.4

The politician now begins
To hustle for the vote,
He’s done the topsy-turvy act
And turned his changing coat,
And so he works like thunder-
And maketh much ado,
His little birds will come to roost
All in a month or two.

His bills mount up like Japanese
Climbing a circus pole;
His creditors begin to tease-
He’s weary in his soul.
And to each urgent creditor
He wearily doth say:
“Your claims will all be satisfied
After election day.”

His wife has dreams of wealth and state,
And orders dresses new,
And every poorer candidate
Asks him to see him through;
And when election day comes round,
And broken is the slate,
Each tradesman tries to pulverize
The beaten candidate.
Think of the crazy things we’ve done,
The crazy, crazy things.
Ruef making statesmen just for fun,
Hearst making slates and things,
The little foolish guttersnipes
That look for place and pay,
Think of the foolish things we’ve done,
And then go home and pray.
But of all the crazy foolery
With which we are so rank,
There’s nothing beats the stupid run
On the sound Hibernia Bank.