Bismarck daily tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, Dakota [N.D.]) 1881-1916, 1900-04-27
PRAIRIE
a BRYAN

A BRYAN CRATER.
II see, b'gosh,,,' said Uncle Ben,
THAT Teller Bryan's round again
AZ Vaughn of his jinglin' jaw,
Expounding his idees of law.
A tel.ln' how Odd Uncle Sam
Should flop right round kerfip, kerr
KerWollop down at Washington,
And ram this here sixteen to one
Right down the dragons throat an
Pull up and ram it down again
Until the cussed ugly beast
Is only fit for buzzard's feast,
B'gosh. I heerd him here one year.,
An say, tn Teller set me queer.
The way he jest lambasted all
The plutOcrats-spared none at all
A tellin' how the tarnal scamps
Was maxim all us farmers tramps,
A stealth, thieyin' Of grain
In one eternal euchre game,
An we got euchred every shot,
I tell you now, it made me hot.
An when he said sixteen to one @
Would razzle every mothers son
o. them rich chaps an block their,
game,
SOSAs NoSt SEd d1lulnCs zT3ZEFgssWt#as
An say, twas like a ticklin' dream
o. silver dollars, pourin' out
To every jay like me about.
B'gosh, | jest riz right up there,
An stood up on the blamed oil chair
An swung my hat an stomped an
cheered
Until bout nothin'' could be heered
But me. And Mandy give a yank
An says: SIT down, We blamed Oh
crank
But Mr.. Bryan says, says he:
Jest let the honest farmer be.
An let him cheer. He knows, no
doubt
The farmers troubles just about
AS well as any man that's here.
So jest you let him shout an cheer.
He. knows what this here gold has
done,
An he'll vote for sixteen to one!
B'gosh, when we got home, says I
To Mandy, sOrter speedily:
The time is come when this blame jay
Has got to quit jest raisin' hay
An go to learnin' politics.
Says ], We're in an awful fix.
These plutocrats is swallowin'
Our farms, an jest a. wallowin'
In gold, an we poor jays must scratch
An skimp an stint an ave an patch
To feed this here gold standard beast
An let the plutocrats all feast
On pumpkin pie and apple sass.
When things is come to SIGH a pass
It's high time there was somethin'
done.
I'm out for this sixteen to one!
AM Mandy sorter sneered. Says
she:
Iou let this here gold standard be.
An don't you git to rantin' here
An thinkin' you're an orateer.
a jumpin' up and jarrin' round.
An knockin' all my bread batch down.
Jes' grab that saw an bacon rind
An try il they don't ease your mind.
An when you've sawed some kitchen
wood.
Go hunt that speckled chickens
brood.
See that the cows is MIXED an fed;
The cart put in the wagon shed,
An take that swilI out to the hogs
An groom the horse and feed the
dogs
An grind them butcher knives o. mine
An put that fresh pork in the brine,
An empty out these suds an tie
This wash rag on the line to dry.
An git some garden truck for sass
An turn old Dobbin out to grass.
Benjamin, when them tasks is done,
You'll find they're nigh sixteen for one
This politics. says she, sis bosh."
An | jest stared, / did, b'gosh.
We'll, me an Mandy split right there
I said it was my lot an share
To help 'lect Bryan. For says I
It's only right that I should try
To muzzle these blame plutocrats-
The ~ever1astin' thieyin' rats.
An save the farmer fore he's broke
Beneath this here gold standard yoke!
Then Mandy says, says she: Look
here.
We've farmed it now for twenty yeal
We've allus had our fill D. grub
An though we've had a real tight rub
Sometimes to make ends meet, we've
got
A middlin' farm, a house an lot,
"A cellar full o. meat an SIGH,
An though we can't be counted rich
i We're eatin' hearty every day;
An while we work, there amt no wal
For honest folk to live am not
Do something to earn what they've
got
But twas no use, for when I'm sot