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.

    “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.

    “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!

    “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!”

    ’Twas the dolorous blab
    Of a tramping “scab”⁠—
    ’Twas the eloquent Swift
    Of the marvelous gift⁠—
The wild, weird, wonderful gift of gab!