|THOU weapon that does drink the blood
Of Liberty, I hate!
I long to see the hour come when men
Will act, will shake the tyrant's throne
Until it trembles at its base,
And then uproot its deepest stone
From out its state.
That fatal Anaconda drinks
Our brightest blood
And makes us serfs, worse than the slave,
Low, menial, poor, who starving begs
The right to labor for a crust
To lift his fainting soul___now dregs
Of briny flood.
To toil is honorable and good;
All love to toil.
But oh, to beg the right or chance
To earn a livelihood is crime
Against humanity and God___
He who ordained throughout all time
Man for the soil.
What treason e'er could institute
A tyrant's throne?
A throne of mighty width and power,
Whose coffers fill from honest hands
Of toil___the sacred yields it brings___
Which all our broad and fertile lands
Have amply borne.
Corruption lurks within the halls
Where laws are made.
Where wealth does build her castled throne,
And makes impregnable its walls;
She holds beneath her charmed spell
Of glittering power, he whom she calls___
Despite his grade.
And thus within her spacious vaults
Great cords of gold
She piles, while feeding on our toil;
Filching those rights of world renown
Which marked us Freedom's sons, and gave
To every man a lordly crown,
Both young and old.
Hate, ye freemen, hate the yoke
Which presses down
Upon your necks, submissive to
The laws your countrymen have made;
Who, making laws, strong chains have forged
To shackle Liberty___here fades
Our high renown.
__James A. DeMoss
James A. DeMoss
(Thayer, Kansas: ___. 1892)