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1842–1914

FOR MAYOR

Ambrose Bierce

O Abner Doble — whose “catarrhal name” Budd of that ilk might envy —‘ tis a rough Rude thing to say, but it is plain enough Your name is to be sneezed at: its acclaim

Will “fill the speaking trump of future fame” With an impeded utterance — a puff Suggesting that a pinch or two of snuff Would clear the tube and somewhat disinflame.

Nay, Abner Doble, you'll not get from me My voice and influence: I'll cheer instead, Some other man; for when my voice ascends a Tall pinnacle of praise, and at high C

Sustains a chosen name, it sha n't be said My influence is naught but influenza.

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FOR MAYOR · Ambrose Bierce · Poetry Cove