TO SHERIFF McRAE
Call out your Fire Department, go deputize your bums;
Gather in your gunmen and stool pigeons from the slums;
You may resolute till doomsday, you ill-begotten knave;
We'll still be winning Free Speech Fights when you are in your grave!
You reprobate, you imp of hate, you're a traitor to the mind
That brought you forth in human shape to prey upon mankind.
You are lower than the snakes that crawl or the scavengers that fly;
You're the living, walking image of a damn black-hearted lie!