Classic Poem

Pray what can mean this mighty pother
About our democratick brother,
Our famous chieftain, Colonel Lyon,
Who's forc'd his modesty to try on,
A dress, which friends and foes declare
Is very little worse for wear;
And hie to congress, with petition,
Describing his forlorn condition:
For that he, having been neglected,
Is not so great as he expected.

Lyon, like jacobin of spirit,
Declares his own transcendent merit,
That, having canvass'd well the matter,
He would not seem himself to flatter,
But still is sure he is conspicuous
In Rutland county, and contiguous;
And is design'd by God, and Nature,
For seat in federal legislature;
That he was chosen, last December,
Right honourable congress member,
By votes a very large majority,
And proves it by his own authority;
His calculations can't deceive him,
Yet federal fools will not believe him.
But would you learn his pithy story all
Please to consult his wise " Memorial. "

Now should you, sirs, refuse his claim,
His brother beasts would cry for shame!
All, wild and tame, like Balaam's ass,
Exclaim, how came this thing to pass!

But federalists, a stubborn pack,
Still grope in errour's mazy track;
They say, that Lyon's votes were few,
That half he claims are not his due.
What, cannot common sense be taught them?
The votes were his, because he bought them!
I'll tell you how he paid the cost,
And purchased many, which he lost.

To drive his patriotick plan on,
From frontier forts he took the cannon,
And, with the democratick metal,
Cast many a handsome five-pail kettle,
With which, to gain his popularity,
He pension'd half Vermont vulgarity.
A kettle was a pretty present
To any mountaineer, or peasant,
Who would procure him votes in plenty, —
Each kettle paid, I think, for twenty!

Now, Messrs. Congress folks, I trow,
You'd better let the Lyon go,
Or else in these hard times, and critical,
We'll pelt ye, sirs, with squibs political;
We, patriotick jacobins,
Whom heaven ordain'd to punish sins,
Will shoot at every mother's son,
With pebble, whizzing from air-gun;
And you will not escape being smitten,
As did his majesty of Britain!

Nor is this all you may expect
If still you treat us with neglect;
We'll change our squibs to cannonading
Sink federal ship, with all her lading,
Enrich us with our country's plunder,
And make e'en Washington knock under.