From the Omaha Daily Bee, October 13, 1913. By Minna Irving.
There was a man who yearned to be
Right in the public eye,
He dreamed at night about his name
In letters six feet high.
So first he went upon the stage
And spouted tragic stuff,
But only played to empty seats,
And left it in a huff.
A preacher next, he made the dust
From pulpit-cushions soar,
But quit because a greater man
Had pounded them before.
He lectured, but with scant success,
And then he tried to write,
But failure sat upon his pen,
And nipped his genius bright.
So having found that fame and gold
For him refused to mix,
For want of something else to try
He entered politics.
He took a phrase he used to scrawl
In copy-books at school
To be his slogan at the polls:
’Twas, “Let the People Rule.”
He painted it on banners gay
And flung them overhead,
He thundered it in every speech,
(The only thing he said.)
Believing that he spoke the truth,
The people, far and wide,
As their deliverer greeted him,
And rallied to his side.
Behold him now, a demagogue
In office waxing fat,
The public at his door must wait
His pleasure on the mat.
And does he let the people rule,
Or even have their say?
You bet he never does, but lo!
He lets the people pay.