See jealous Labor strike the hand that feeds,
And burn the mills that grind his daily bread;
Yea, in blind rage denounce the very laws
That shield his home from Europe's pauperdom.
See the grieved farmer raise his horny hand
And splutter garlic. Hear the demagogues
Fist-maul the wind and weather-cock the crowd,
With brazen foreheads full of empty noise
Out-bellowing the bulls of Bashan; and behold
Shrill, wrinkled Amazons in high harangue
Stamp their flat feet and gnash their toothless gums,
And flaunt their petticoat-flag of "Liberty."
Hear the old bandogs of the Daily Press,
Chained to their party posts, or fetter-free
And running amuck against old party creeds,
On-howl their packs and glory in the fight.
See mangy curs, whose editorial ears
Prick to all winds to catch the popular breeze,
Slang-whanging yelp, and froth and snap and snarl,
And sniff the gutters for their daily food.
And these--are they our prophets and our priests?
Hurra!--Hurra!--Hurra!--for "Liberty!"
Flaunt the red flag and flutter the petticoat;
Ran-tan the drums and let the bugles bray,
The eagle scream and sixty million throats
Sing Yankee-doodle--Yankee-doodle-doo.
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