 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
A DEMAGOGUE
“Yawp, yawp, yawp!
Under the moon and sun.
It's aye the rabble,
And I to gabble,
And hey! for the tale that is never done.
Under the moon and sun.
It's aye the rabble,
And I to gabble,
And hey! for the tale that is never done.
“Chant, chant, chant!
To woo the reluctant vote.
I would I were dead
And my say were said
And my song were sung to its ultimate note.
To woo the reluctant vote.
292
And my say were said
And my song were sung to its ultimate note.
“Stab, stab, stab!
Ah! the weapon between my teeth—
I'm sick of the flash of it;
See how the slash of it
Misses the foeman to mangle the sheath!
Ah! the weapon between my teeth—
I'm sick of the flash of it;
See how the slash of it
Misses the foeman to mangle the sheath!
“Boom, boom, boom!
I'm beating the mammoth drum.
My nethermost tripes
I blow into the pipes—
It's O for the honors that never come!”
I'm beating the mammoth drum.
My nethermost tripes
I blow into the pipes—
It's O for the honors that never come!”
'Twas the dolorous blab
Of a tramping “scab”—
'Twas the eloquent Swift
Of the marvelous gift—
The wild, weird, wonderful gift of gab!
Of a tramping “scab”—
'Twas the eloquent Swift
Of the marvelous gift—
The wild, weird, wonderful gift of gab!
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |