On Election Day
Whither those songs of patriotism
Of which they so freely spoke?
They new-breeds have been fully clad
In old and worn-out costumes
The rickety customs are on the thrive!
Surely we are in a new heaven:
There many things must be amiss,
The old chant-songs of undue death,
Of rigorous riggers and their thugs,
Of vagabonds, vandals and more!
Where are the voters?
Those sands of men whose presence
Have been acknowledged in today’s books?
Voters indeed: they were there!
Isn’t today like former days?
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