_The Rhyme Of The Ancient Populist_

IT was an ancient populist, His beard was long and gray, And punctuated by his fist, He had his little say: "This is the age of gold," he said, "'Tis gold for butter, gold for bread, Gold for bonds and gold for fun; Gold for all things 'neath the sun." Then with a smile He shook his head. "Just wait awhile," He slyly said. "When we get in and run the State We'll tackle gold, we'll legislate. We'll pass an act And make a fact By which these gold-bugs will be whacked Till they're as cold As is their gold. We're going to make a statute law by which 'twill be decreed That standards are abolished, for a standard favors greed. This is the country of the free, and free this land shall be As soon as we the 'people' have our opportunity, And he who has to pay a bill Can pay in whate'er suits his will. The tailor? Let him take his coats And pay his notes; Or if perchance He's long on pants, Let trousers be His £. s. d. The baker! Let his landlord take His rent in cake, Or anything the man can bake. And if a plumber wants a crumb, He may unto the baker come And plumb. A joker needing hats or cloaks Can go and pay for them with jokes, And so on: what a fellow's got Shall pay for things that he has not. If beggars' rags were cash, you'd see No longer any beggary; In short, there'd be no poverty." "A splendid scheme," quoth I; "but stay! What of the nation's credit, pray?" "Ha-ha! ho-ho!" he loudly roared. "We'll leave that problem to the Lord. And if He fails to keep us straight Once more we'll have to legislate, And so create, Confounding greed, As much of credit as we need."