REFORM.

REFORM.
563.7

We’re busy now campaignin’, down to Pohick on the Crick;
We’re tired o’ bein tyrannized by any Tom or Dick
Or Harry, that has some how had the luck to run across
Control of the machine an’ so has made his self a boss.
We’re marchin’ an’ we’re cheerin’ so’s to keep our spirits warm:
We’re oilin’ up our voices an’ we’re shoutin’ fur reform,
An’ the only thing we’re needin’ fur to sign an’ seal his fate
Is but a simple matter. Only jes’ candidate.

There’s one thing ’bout reform that’s right confusin’ to our minds,
The trouble with it is that there’s so many different kinds.
Some says reform the tariff: some says call the railroads down.
Though neither of ’em makes a heap o’ difference in this town.
Some shout “reform the spellin’?” an some want’s the leker stopped,
An’ others talk of football, ’cause they want the roughness dropped
So I reckon that the bosses that is how it is agreed
Will simply stick until we ascertain the kind we need!
-Washington Star,