At Washington,
I was a bass-drum belly
Waddling through a luxurious corridor of the Capitol.
This belly was a high dignitary
Who sits on an authoritative bench,
And dictates the laws of the gaunt bellies of the poor.
There were other bass-drum bellies waddling about
And lounging in executive chambers;
They make the laws for gaunt bellies of the poor.
And I saw the bass-drum bellies of the rich,
The bankers, the industrial magnates and their lackeys,
Laughing, talking, whispering with these official bass-drum bellies.
And I thought: "What can be the meaning of all this?"
I looked to the North and saw the gaunt bellies of strikers unlawfully beaten and jailed.
I looked to the South and saw the gaunt bellies of factory children denied their constitutional rights.
I looked to the West and saw the gaunt bellies of farmers bankrupt by legalized robbery.
Everywhere I looked I saw the gaunt bellies of the poor
Oppressed and denied their constitutional rights
By these official bass-drum bellies at Washington.
Surely, I thought: "This is a Belly Government,
Of, by and for the bass-drum bellies of the rich."