In the Old World, in the New,
Blameless mortals are but few;
Men are scheming—ever dreaming
Of the precious metals gleaming.
Ever bent on money getting,
They are fretting, they are sweating;
Some are sighing, almost crying,
Others cheating, others lying!
Some are fasting, some are pining,
Many over-drinking, over-dining;
Hundreds swearing, groaning, whining,
God forgetting! Joy declining!
Oh, the rabble, babble, scrabble, squabble,
Oh, the heart-ache, hate and strife and trouble,—
All for “filthy lucre,” that most greedy men would gladly gobble.
In the New World, in the Old,
Shameless wights are bought and sold;
Mammon tempts them with his gold;
Hungry “thralls” without positions,
Preachers, paupers, venal politicians,
Half-salaried clerks, quack physicians,
Useless drones with fat commissions;
Soulless sharks grab all below.
Syndicates and trusts, they “knead the dough!”
Honest labor, stands small show,
For Rothschilds & Company whole nations “hoe.”
Bursted banks make hard conditions,
Dampen, somewhat, our ambitions,
Aggravate our evil dispositions.
In the Old World, in the New,
Saintly “grafters” fleece the sinner crew.
Labor’s hard, they know, to shirk,
But the old “skin game,” can’t they work?
“Gospel guides” deign not to moil,
Nor earn their bread by honest toil.
Converted “lambs” they will despoil,
Yet oh, oh, their hands they hate to soil!
Collections large they love to see,
They e’en would pilfer charity!
How dare, how dare they levy tax on you and me!
God’s word it should be free,
So taught the Christ, they killed at Calvary!
Were, oh, were these “chosen few” but fewer!
Honest men then might profit more.
But long as selfish Self serves only Self,
So long as preachers preach for pelf,
The righteous will lag back and not lead,
“The heathen” will despise your creed,
And count “ye saints,” most scurvy knaves indeed.
Wolves! What wolves beset both church and state!
From prelate to chief magistrate,
God’s debater and ye legislator
Each alike to Heavy Purse will cater.
Oh old Money Bags, he knows
How to bribe “hobos”
To vote a “single tax”
That will break poor farmers’ backs
And poor bachelors’ backs—by Halifax!—as well.
Crush out small realty owners,
Exempt large money loaners,
Leave half the values unassessed,
Double the rates on the rest,
Limit the coinage, confiscate the lands,
Collect more revenues and rents
To pay—to pay the Government expense!
Oh, ye vile viper classes!
How ye prey upon the masses!
Burden your brethren, like so many stupid asses!
Tax-eaters and tax-beaters,
Cold voters, heelers, thugs and repeaters,
(Listen, ye doubting Thomases, ye Peters),
Czar Shylocks hath our millions got;
You and I have dearth of dimes, God wot?
Force and fraud, fakir and robber,
Shovel our dollars into their hopper,
For humanity, such care not a copper.
Arise! Arise! Ye long down-trod,
Can Greed, can Wrong arrest the wrath of God?
Have ye no heart, no courage left?
Of reason, too, are you bereft?
Combine, combine ye hosts, with awful power,
Organization will curb oppression in one brief hour.
Beware! Beware! Ye sons of pride;
Watch well “the farmer with the hoe,”
Watch well the tradesman at his side,
They plot—they plan! a tyrant’s overthrow.
Up then! Unite! All honest men unite!
Amass your forces, drill, make ready for the fight.
Fall in line—fill up the ranks of Truth and Right.
March on! March on! In your native love of justice strong
Wage relentless, rebellious war on Greed and Wrong!
What, become anarchists? No, oh, no—thrice no.
Could Christian wish that blood should flow?
No, no; but brave like Him of Nazareth, the frail, the lowly,
Him who yet waged battles great and holy;
Such fearless warriors again shall clear the way.
Truths bravely told turn fraud away
By scorning, scathing cheats—by honest acts—by honest ballots—
Just men yet shall masters be who now are valets!