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FEEGOBBLE:
Defendant, hence, or, by the G.o.ds, I'll brain thee!-- Unless you saved some turneps to retain me.
HAYSEED:
As I was saying, I got up and dusted, My ranch a graveyard and my business busted!
But hearing that a fellow from the City, Who calls himself a Citizens' Committee, Was coming up to play the very d.i.c.kens, With those who cover up our farms with slickens, And make himself--unless I am in error-- To all such miscreants a holy terror, I thought if I would join the dialogue I maybe might get payment for my dog.
ALL (_Singing_):
O the dog is the head of Creation, Prime work of the Master's hand; He hasn't a known occupation, Yet lives on the fat of the land.
Adipose, indolent, sleek and orbicular, Sun-soaken, door matted, cross and particular, Men, women, children, all coddle and wait on him, Then, accidentally shutting the gate on him, Miss from their calves, ever after, the rifted out Mouthful of tendons that doggy has lifted out!
(_Enter Junket_.)
JUNKET:
Well met, my hearties! I must trouble you Jointly and severally to provide A comfortable carriage, with relays Of hardy horses. This Committee means To move in state about the country here.
I shall expect at every place I stop Good beds, of course, and everything that's nice, With bountiful repast of meat and wine.
For this Committee comes to sea and mark And inwardly digest.
HAYSEED:
Digest my dog!
NOZZLE:
First square my claim for damages: the gold Escaping with the slickens keeps me poor!
RINGDIVVY:
I merely would remark that if you'd grease My itching palm it would more glibly glide Into the public pocket.
FEEGOBBLE:
Sir, the wheels Of justice move but slowly till they're oiled.
I have some certain writs and warrants here, Prepared against your advent. You recall The tale of Zaccheus, who did climb a tree, And Jesus said: "Come down"?
JUNKET:
Why, bless your souls!
I've got no money; I but came to see What all this noisy babble is about, Make a report and file the same away.
NOZZLE, RINGDIVVY, FEEGOBBLE, HAYSEED:
How'll that help _us_? Reports are not our style Of provender!
JUNKET:
Well, you can gnaw the file.
(_Curtain._)
"PEACEABLE EXPULSION"
DRAMATIS PERSONae.
MOUNTWAVE _a Politician_ HARDHAND _a Workingman_ TOK BAK _a Chinaman_ SATAN _a Friend to Mountwave_
CHORUS OF FOREIGN VOTERS.
MOUNTWAVE:
My friend, I beg that you will lend your ears (I know 'tis asking a good deal of you) While I for your instruction nominate Some certain wrongs you suffer. Men like you Imperfectly are sensible of all The miseries they actually feel.
Hence, Providence has prudently raised up Clear-sighted men like me to diagnose Their cases and inform them where they're hurt.
The wounds of honest workingmen I've made A specialty, and probing them's my trade.
HARDHAND:
Well, Mister, s'pose you let yer bossest eye Camp on my mortal part awhile; then you Jes' toot my sufferin's an' tell me what's The fas.h.i.+onable caper now in writhes-- The very swellest wiggle.
MOUNTWAVE:
Well, my lad, 'Tis plain as is the long, conspicuous nose Borne, ponderous and pendulous, between The elephant's remarkable eye-teeth (_Enter Tok Bak._) That Chinese compet.i.tion's what ails _you_.
BOTH (_Singing_):
O pig-tail Celestial, O barbarous b.e.s.t.i.a.l, Abominable Chinee!
Simian fellow man, Primitive yellow man, Jos.h.i.+an devotee!
Shoe-and-cigar machine, Oleomargarine You are, and b.u.t.ter are we-- Fat of the land are we, Salt of the earth; In G.o.d's image planned to be-- n.o.ble in birth!
You, on the contrary, Modeled upon very Different lines indeed, Show in conspicuous, Base and ridiculous Ways your inferior breed.
Wretched apology, Shame of ethnology, Monster unspeakably low!
Fit to be buckshotted-- Be you 'steboycotted.
Vanish--vamoose--mosy--Go!
TOK BAK:
You listen me! You beatee the big dlum An' tell me go to Flowly Kingdom Come.
You all too muchee fool. You chinnee heap.
Such talkee like my washee--belly cheap!
(_Enter Satan._) You dlive me outee clunty towns all way; Why you no tackle me Safflisco, hay?
SATAN:
