A Satire Anthology

by Unknown

THE PIOUS EDITOR’S CREED

I DU believe in Freedom’s cause,

Ez fur away ez Paris is;

I love to see her stick her claws

In them infarnal Pharisees;

It’s wal enough agin a king

To dror resolves an’ triggers,

But libbaty’s a kind o’ thing

That don’t agree with niggers.

I du believe the people want

A tax on teas an’ coffees;

Thet nothin’ aint extravygunt,

Purvidin’ I’m in office;

Fer I hev loved my country sence

My eye-teeth fill’d their sockets,

An’ Uncle Sam I reverence,

Partic’larly his pockets.

I du believe in any plan

O’ levyin’ the taxes,

Ez long, ez, like a lumberman,

I get jest wut I axes:

I go free-trade thru thick an’ thin,

Because it kind o’ rouses

The folks to vote—an’ keeps us in

Our quiet custom-houses.

I du believe it’s wise an’ good

To send out furrin missions,

Thet is, on sartin understood

An’ orthydox conditions—

I mean nine thousan’ dolls. per ann.,

Nine thousan’ more fer outfit,

An’ me to recommend a man

The place ’ould jest about fit.

I du believe in special ways

O’ prayin’ an’ convartin’;

The bread comes back in many days,

An’ butter’d, tu, fer sartin;

I mean in preyin’ till one busts

On wut the party chooses,

An’ in convartin’ public trusts

To very privit uses.

I du believe hard coin’s the stuff

Fer ’lectioneers to spout on;

The people’s ollers soft enough

To make hard money out on;

Dear Uncle Sam pervides fer his,

An’ gives a good-sized junk to all,

I don’t care how hard money is,

Ez long ez mine’s paid punctooal.

I du believe with all my soul

In the great Press’s freedom,

To p’int the people to the goal,

An’ in the traces lead ’em.

Palsied the arm thet forges yokes

At my fat contracts squintin’,

An’ wither’d be the nose thet pokes

Inter the Gov’ment printin’!

I du believe that I should give

Wut’s his’n unto Cæsar,

For it’s by him I move an’ live,

Frum him my bread an’ cheese air;

I du believe thet all o’ me

Doth bear his souperscription—

Will, conscience, honour, honesty,

An’ things o’ thet description.

I du believe in prayer an’ praise

To him thet hez the grantin’

O’ jobs—in everythin’ thet pays,

But most of all in Cantin’;

This doth my cup with marcies fill,

This lays all thought o’ sin to rest;

I don’t believe in princerple,

But, oh! I du in interest.

I du believe in bein’ this

Or thet, ez it may happen,

One way or t’other hendiest is

To ketch the people nappin’.

It aint by princerples nor men

My preudunt course is steadied;

I scent which pays the best, an’ then

Go into it bald-headed.

I du believe thet holdin’ slaves

Comes nat’ral tu a Presidunt,

Let ’lone the rowdedow it saves

To hev a well-broke precedunt;

Fer any office, small or gret,

I couldn’t ax with no face,

Without I’d ben, thru dry an’ wet,

Th’ unrizzest kind o’ doughface.

I du believe wutever trash

’Ill keep the people in blindness,

Thet we the Mexicuns can thrash

Right inter brotherly kindness;

Thet bomb-shells, grape, an’ powder, ’n’ ball

Air good-will’s strongest magnets;

Thet peace, to make it stick at all,

Must be druv in with bagnets.

In short, I firmly du believe

In Humbug generally,

Fer it’s a thing thet I perceive

To hev a solid vally;

This heth my faithful shepherd ben,

In pasture sweet heth led me,

An’ this’ll keep the people green,

To feed ez they hev fed me.

James Russell Lowell.