Black Beetles in Amber

"Yawp, yawp, yawp!

Under the moon and sun.

It's aye the rabble,

And I to gabble,

And hey! for the tale that is never done.

"Chant, chant, chant!

To woo the reluctant vote.

I would I were dead

And my say were said

And my song were sung to its ultimate note.

"Stab, stab, stab!

Ah! the weapon between my teeth—

I'm sick of the flash of it;

See how the slash of it

Misses the foeman to mangle the sheath!

"Boom, boom, boom!

I'm beating the mammoth drum.

My nethermost tripes

I blow into the pipes—

It's oh! for the honors that never come!"

'Twas the dolorous blab

Of a tramping "scab"—

'Twas the eloquent Swift

Of the marvelous gift—

The wild, weird, wonderful gift of gab!