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Song of the Pauper.


TUNE — "Up Salt River."
As sung by the late P. M. G.

Come, down with your money, I'm terribly poor,
Much suffering for you I'm compelled to endure,
Having revelled in office for many a day,
I've left it and now I am scribbling away.
All for one dollar, only one dollar.
Only one dollar, one dollar, heigh-ho!

I've lived on the people for many a year,
No wonder the people to me are most dear:
For money the friend of my youth I betrayed,
And my life a whole series of slanderings made,
All for the dollar, &c.

To be sure, I have laid up in silver and gold,
Much more than is worth while just now to be told,
But I'm laying that up for the next rainy day,
And to feed my dear children I'm scribbling away,
All for one dollar, &c.

Come, down with your dollars, ye Democrats true!
And those that can do it had better send two;
From those who are poor, a half-dollar I'll take,
'Twill serve a small sum for the pauper to make,
So hand out your dollar, &c.


For this to your order the globe I will send,
The postage is nothing, for Niles is my friend;
From that you will learn how the Yankees all run,
And the British last war every victory won,
All for one dollar, &c.

That Harrison, Scott, Daniel Webster, and Clay
Are all British Whigs, in that paper I'll say;
Though in battle and council they conquer'd the foe,
While Matty, the lawyer, kept quiet, you know,
But I must have my dollar, &c.

'Tis true I must scribble full many a lie,
But scribble I must friends, or else I must die,
If Harrison's chosen he'll kick up a row;
And when money is squander'd he'll want to know how;
So make haste with your dollar, &c.

A cool hundred thousand by this I shall make,
That is if my friends all my papers will take.
But it is not for money I enter the fight,
Oh! certainly not! for the people I write,
So fork out your dollar, &c.