No longer the boys,
With their music and noise,
Demand your election as mayor;
Such a milk-wagon hack
Has no place on the track
When his rival's a thoroughbred stayer.
With your coarse, shallow wit
Every rational cit
At last is completely disgusted;
The tool of the rings,
Trusts, barons, and things,
What wonder, I wonder, you're busted!
As soon as that Yerkes
Finds out you can't work his
Intrigues for the popular nickel,
With a tear to deceive you
He'll drop you and leave you
In your normal condition—a pickle.
Go, dodderer, go
Where the whisker winds blow
And spasms of penitence trouble;
Or flounder and whoop
In an ocean of soup
Where the pills of adversity bubble.