A Demagogue - Poem by Ambrose Bierce
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!
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