COUNT LUIE:
But friends, he like all converts new, did try
To prove his loyalty to his new creed.
Those words were only chosen to arraign
His predecessors at the homeland bar;
Thus politics doth in its various forms
Seem quite erratic to the layman's mind.
_But trust in ME!_ I from my southern home
Have come to dwell in this God-favored land,
And when those men have hied them to their homes
I still will like a rock breast every wave
And on my judgment clear, in state affairs,
The grateful Filipinos may depend.
ALL IN CONCERT:
Ah, here's a man who boasts a mighty mind
That doth compare unto his giant form;
Long Live Count Luie! When the tide shall turn
Our grateful hearts will hasten his reward.
COUNT LUIE: (_assuming a pose of great dignity_):
Thanks, noble friends, my heart with gratitude
Doth well, like gutter after April show'r.
_(Aside)_
_It's like taking candy from the baby._
ALL JOIN IN SINGING:
_"THE POLITICO'S ODE"_
_(To the tune that the Old Cow died on)_
_Count Luie hums the air an octave lower with a self-satisfied
smile, thinking he is singing bass:_
I.
We Filipinos are a noble race,
With aspirations soaring to the sky;
The love of country glows on every face,
And philanthropic love from every eye.
The life God gave, we know how to enjoy;
If left alone, 'twere bliss without alloy,
But these _Americanos_ come along
And try to make us think that right is wrong:
II.
They say we ought to toil from morn till night,
And seem to think fiestas are all wrong;
They kick because we let our roosters fight.
And make Work! Work!! the burden of their song.
But why should we be toiling,
What need our hands of soiling,
While plenteous fruits are growing;
With bounteous Nature flowing?
III.
Taft says we are artistic, which is true;
We see no need of everlasting toil,
Our minds have higher things always in view
Than delving in the black and dirty soil.
To be assemblymen is our desire,
Or, failing that, we want some office high'r.
That's why we want th' _Americano_ band
Hustled, forthwith, from out our suff'ring land:
IV.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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