Classic Poem

Why should I pine and languish so?
Why should I droop and sigh?
Why should my soul be bowed in woe,
As weary days go by?
Why should I drown in sorrow's sea,
When, through the surf of pain,
This sweet salvation comes to me:
" Gee swee Zamericane! "

I thought diplomacy my forte,
And yearned for deeds of state
Amid the solemn pomps of court
In monarchies effete;
And most I hankered to abide
Hard by the river Seine,
Where I could say, with swelling pride,
" Gee swee Zamericane! "

And this is why I made the flop
Which Reid and Halstead made,
And this is why I took a drop
On matters of free trade;
I ate my words of '76,
And boomed the " rascal " Blaine,
And played a thousand Jingo tricks —
" Gee swee Zamericane! "

The die is cast, the boom is o'er,
And Blaine is beaten bad —
The which is why I'm feeling sore,
And, likewise, very mad;
For, after all this harrowing strife,
I'm likely to remain
What I have been through all my life —
" Gee swee Zamericane! "