No. 58. Unlimited Gall.
TUME. "Dennis M'Carthy."
My name it is Dennis McCartiz;
I thought I would give ye a call.
I will sing of the darling old parties —
There's no difference 'twixt them at all,
The Democrats got into power by promises sacred and old;
But they crawled into the shoes of the Gentiles and the Jews,
And the people's left out in the cold.
Then hurrah! for the Demo-Republico party,
With abundant, unlimited, cast-iron gall,
This great combination, to capture the nation,
Is Monopoly, Whiskey, and the Devil, this fall.
The Republicans cry for Protection, the Democrats halloo Free Trade;
You would think 'twas the Devil's own auction,
But the fuss that the blackguards have made:
But when election is over, and the suckers have crawled into their holes,
Then the bosses will all take a notion to cross the wide ocean
For a cargo of Italians and Poles.
There have many things happened this fall, sir,
That fills us chuck full of surprise.
Sure, we'd never believe them at all, sir,
If they wasn't so plain to our eyes.
Just see the Republican party; would you ever have dared to suppose
That they'd take our old flag, and make it a rag,
And use it for wiping their nose?
[SPOKEN.] — In the language of Gen. John A. Dix, "If any man dares to wipe his nose on the American flag, spot him on the snoot!"
The greatest sensation, they say, sir —
It beats anything that we've seen —
The Republicans wear every day, sir,
A sprig of the shamrock so green.
They will meet Paddy Whack on the corner;
They'll take off their hats and they'll bow;
And they'll smile and they'll smirk, and their heads they will jerk,
And they'll get in their work, and,
Although it is a sin, sweet Paddy will grin,
And straightway begin to rake in the tin,
And St. Patrick above us will look down upon us.
And say how they love us, "O Lord!"
They have loaned out our money to the banks, sir,
And they don't charge a cent for its use.
They call us an army of cranks, sir,
Because we've found out this abuse.
And they all joined together like pirates,
And fix up their company Trusts;
So they throw out their feelers to strangle all squealers,
And back up their heelers to crush out small dealers,
These Demo-Republico Trusts.
They have loaded us down with a debt, sir,
Three billions of interest we've paid;
And we will force this fact down their necks, sir,
That not half the principal's paid.
Then they swell up and talk about honor,
And tell what they've done for the cause;
But we raise objection to such rank deception.
We will show them, next election, we're struck wid reflection.
They can all squeal Protection, but their Tariff injection
Grows pale wid dejection. Be gorry, we'll fix 'em next fall.
The Republicans held a Convention;
It was built on the Democratic plan.
There was whiskey too numerous to mention —
Five gallons for every man.
They got up a great insurrection —
Pint bottles and whiskey-jugs flew.
'Twas a hub-a-boo, bug-a-boo, Kilkenny cat-a-doo —
Down the center and up the outside —
Gouge out your partner's eyes, pull out his hair.
Mahone, of Virginia, got hit wid a chair;
Row-da-dow; what a row; wasn't it nice —
The police came in and put them on ice.
[SPOKEN.] — Then they unanimously passed a resolution declaring that they cordially sympathized with all well-directed efforts for the promotion of temperance virtue, and morality, too.
C. M. Maxson.