Who is it, when the people rise
And make the welkin ring with cries
For freedom, sits with upturned eyes?
The Boss.
Who is it makes a little slate
And nominates the candidate—
But lets the people pay the freight?
The Boss.
Who is it, after all the noise
Against the methods he employs
Is meekly followed by the boys?
The Boss.
Who, when he gets alone where we
That boast about the liberty
We have can neither hear nor see
Says: "Oh, what fools these mortals be!"
The Boss.
Chicago Times-Herald.
CHANGES.
One hundred years ago to-day,
With wildernesses here,
With powder in his gun, the man
Went out and got the deer.
But now the thing is somewhat changed,
And on another plan;
With powder on her cheeks the dear
Goes out and gets the man.
Indianapolis Sun.