Oh, the mirrors vast of crystal glass,
And the dear old bar-room cat;
Oh, the clink of ice, and the subtle vice,
And the highly polished floor,
Belong to the show of the long ago
In the Land of the Swinging Door.
Democracy’s boast, through its mighty host,
Has finished this land at last,
And a hot rum punch, with the old free lunch,
Are memories of the past;