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Show SONG OF SILVER- BY JAMES B. GOODE. Tell us not in mournful numbers, Life is but an idle dream; For we see that wealth controls us And we are not what we seem. Rights that once our statutes gave us, Now no longer can we claim; For the shylock buys conventions And the candidates doth name. What are we that we should grumble, O'er the platform that he writes? 'Tis the task of common people, To believe what he indites. Cringe, ye slaves, for V7aH street shylocks Have the g. o. p. in hand; You must vote for Bill McKinley And for gold, alone, must stand. Ah! but listen to the murmur, Of the thunder o'er the plains; As the people rise in anger, To protest against such claims. 'Down with tyrant gold!" they're shouting, "Out upon those blatant knaves! We are freemen, and, by thunder, None ean sell us out as slaves! We're for silver and for freedom And our claims are brave and true; We can beat that Bill McKinley And his Wall street masters, too!" Silver! silverj shouts the chorus, From the hill tops far away, (Vhile the millions in the valleys, Sing its praises every day. Silver will increase our wages, It will give us work each day; For 'twill thwart the mighty shylock And will take his power away. Rising prices for our products, Business for our idle men; All will come to bless the nation, When silver's money once again. Plenty will retnrn to millions And prosperity will reign, In the home of every workmau, When silver's money once again. When the tides of next November, Give to us the chance to win, You can bet your bottom dollar, Silver will be money then! |
