The Congress met, the day was wet, Van Buren took the chair,
On either side, the statesman pride of far Kentuck was there;
With moody frown, there ate Calhoun, and slowly in his cheek
His quid he thrust, and slaked the dust, as Webster rose to speak.
Upon that day, near gifted Clay, a youthful member sat,
And like a free American upon the floor he spat;
Then turning round to Clay, he said, and wiped his manly chin,
“What kind of Locofoco’s that, as wears the painter’s skin?”
“Young man,” quoth Clay, “avoid the way of Slick of Tennessee,
Of gougers fierce, the eyes that pierce, the fiercest gouger he.