WASHEE WASHEE.
BY JOAQUIN MILLER.
Brown John he bends above his tub
In cellar, alley, anywhere
Where dirt is found, why John is there;
And rub and rub and rub and rub.
The hoodlum hisses in his ear:
“Git out of here, you yeller scrub!”
He is at work, he cannot hear;
He smiles that smile that knows no fear;
And rub and rub and rub and rub,
He calmly keeps on washing.
The politicians bawl and crow
To every idle chiv. and blood,
And hurl their two hands full of mud:
“The dirty Chinaman must go!”
But John still bends above his tub,
And rub and rub and rub and rub;
He wrestles in his snowy suds
These dirty politicians’ duds;
He calmly keeps on washing.
“Git out o’ here! ye haythin, git!
Me Frinch ancisthors fought an’ blid
Fur this same freedom, so they did,
An’ I’ll presarve it, ye can bit!
Phwat honest man can boss a town?
Or burn anither Pittsburgh down?
Or beg? Or sthrike? Or labor shirk
Phwile yez are here an’ want ter work?
Git out, I say! ye haythin git!”
And Silver Jimmy shied a brick
That should have made that heathen sick;
But John, he kept on washing.
Then mighty Congress shook with fear
At this queer, silent little man,
And cried as only Congress can:
“Stop washing and git out of here!”
The small brown man, he ceased to rub,
And raised his little shaven head
Above the steaming, sudsy tub,
And unto this great Congress said,
Straightforward, business-like, and true:
“Two bittee dozen washee you!”
Then calmly went on washing.
Oh! honest, faithful little John,
If you will lay aside your duds
And take a sea of soap and suds
And wash out dirty Washington;
If you will be the Hercules
To cleanse our stables clean of these
That all such follies fatten on,
There’s fifty million souls to-day
To bid you welcome, bid you stay
And calmly keep on washing.
—The Independent.