No. 28. The Farmers are Coming.
1. Farmers now have grasped the handles
Of evolution's plow.
And the soulless imps of Shylock
Can't stop their moving now.
They are bound to get from under
Contraction's deadly pall,
That like the poison upas, spreads
Desolation over all.
Forward! all! Ye men of action!
From Forest, Forge and Field;
Leave behind, the men who falter
Leave behind the slaves who yield.
2. The men who sneer at "hayseeds."
And steal their wheat and corn,
Must now all "go to grass", sir,
"As sure as you are born."
They, who soak the usurious mortgage,
In base contraction fat,
Must take a dose of expansion,
And get a taste of that.
3. With ballots on their pitchforks,
With Justice "to the fore,"
See the toiling hosts are coming
Two hundred thousand score.
Woe betide the purchased minions,
Of 'cursed old Monop,
Who dare, bar the way of Freemen,
Or bid their columns stop?
Geo. C. Beecher.