THE TARIFF’S LITTLE LAMB. (A Melodrama in Eight Stanzas.)

The tariff had a little lamb, Its fleece was snowy white, It followed him around all day, And slept by him at night.

Once this little lamb was small, But now it is not so, For the tariff fed his little pet Until it had to grow.

To Congress it was brought one day; They tried to put it out, But they found the lamb was now a ram, Which had grown very stout.

The President was a little man; His face was bright, but red; And he had little hair upon His bald and shiny head.

And when he could not catch the lamb, He called upon the “regulars,” While “insurgents” chased it ’round the room, And made a dreadful noise.

And still it ran about the room, And did not seem to tire, Until the Democrats jumped in, And set the place on fire.

The bells then rang, the firemen came, But could not quench the fire; The poor lamb fled and hastened to The White House to expire.

When the tariff missed his little lamb, He raised a dreadful wail; Just then Mister Taft pulled it out, And saved it by the tail.

Ride a cock-horse to Manassas, of course, To see the great major when not on a horse; With braid on his shoulders and mud on his toes— These were only a few of his woes.

Moses Clapp killed a calf, Coe I. Crawford got the half; Bob La Follette got the head— Ring the bell, the calf is dead!

Jack Bourne passed the hat, And found the income lean; Walt Houser had been before, you see, And licked the platter clean.

We’ll sing you a chorus, About George W. Norris, And now my story’s begun. We’ll sing you another About Norris Brown (not his Brother), And now my story’s done.

Walter be nimble, Walter be quick, And settle Alaska With a big stick.

Bye, Billy, bunting, Daddy’s gone a-hunting, To get a little thicker skin, To wrap his Billy bunting in.