“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 oh! 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!