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Stay Hand, Gold Tories!
My country, has it come to pass
That British greed and British gold
Have won where sword and blazing brass
Won not in daring days of old?
Dare Wall-street Arnolds walk abroad
Where stands old Wall-street's Washington,
And taunt us? In the name of God,
What have we done? What have we done?
What have we done but toil and bleed
And battle down the border lands
And widen worlds for Wall-street greed
With dauntless hearts and horny hands?
I think the time has come to say,
Stay hand, you Tories, Arnolds, stay.
Stay hand, stay tongue, stay brazen throat;
And if brave Britain is more dear
To Tories there than Patriots here,
Why, Tories, Traitors, take the boat!
That British greed and British gold
Have won where sword and blazing brass
Won not in daring days of old?
Dare Wall-street Arnolds walk abroad
Where stands old Wall-street's Washington,
And taunt us? In the name of God,
What have we done? What have we done?
What have we done but toil and bleed
And battle down the border lands
And widen worlds for Wall-street greed
With dauntless hearts and horny hands?
I think the time has come to say,
Stay hand, you Tories, Arnolds, stay.
Stay hand, stay tongue, stay brazen throat;
And if brave Britain is more dear
To Tories there than Patriots here,
Why, Tories, Traitors, take the boat!
Who made this land? Who hewed the way
From Alleghany's stony steeps
To where Sierra's pine-tops play,
And plunge to Balboa's boundless deeps?
Why, silvered heroes, men who knew
Such daring as shall never die;
Such daring as the dauntless few
Who smote your British hip and thigh.
While you, you sat and gathered gold
Or passed your cunning years abroad,
And, taunting, sneering, bought and sold
The very blood that drenched our sod.
My God! And now what more would you,
Thrice Judas, Arnold, nomad Jew?
Your hands from off the Nation's throat,
And we will raise God songs of praise
And gratitude for fairer days,
Nor miss you in a single note.
From Alleghany's stony steeps
To where Sierra's pine-tops play,
And plunge to Balboa's boundless deeps?
Why, silvered heroes, men who knew
Such daring as shall never die;
Such daring as the dauntless few
Who smote your British hip and thigh.
While you, you sat and gathered gold
Or passed your cunning years abroad,
And, taunting, sneering, bought and sold
The very blood that drenched our sod.
My God! And now what more would you,
Thrice Judas, Arnold, nomad Jew?
Your hands from off the Nation's throat,
And we will raise God songs of praise
And gratitude for fairer days,
Nor miss you in a single note.
You have your gold. Be satisfied,
And tempt not fate too far to-day.
Take up your gold. The world is wide;
But we are here, and here to stay.
You want our silver? Want our lands?
Want British law and British spoil,
While we in chains, bound feet and hands,
Toil on and on as peasants toil?
This land is Freedom's land for aye!
Free land! Free silver! And FREE MEN!
Free men who do not fear to die.
Free men have died, and may again!
An if, by chance, your gold has won,
Beware! The war has but begun:
The war of ballots for the grace
To coin our moneys, keep our laws,
To clip old England's reaching paws,
And laugh her lion in the face.
And tempt not fate too far to-day.
Take up your gold. The world is wide;
But we are here, and here to stay.
You want our silver? Want our lands?
Want British law and British spoil,
While we in chains, bound feet and hands,
Toil on and on as peasants toil?
This land is Freedom's land for aye!
Free land! Free silver! And FREE MEN!
Free men who do not fear to die.
Free men have died, and may again!
An if, by chance, your gold has won,
Beware! The war has but begun:
The war of ballots for the grace
To coin our moneys, keep our laws,
To clip old England's reaching paws,
And laugh her lion in the face.
El Dorado, Cal., October 24, 1896.
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