We want America to guard our state, Because we couldn't do it all alone; We want the offices at any rate We'll eat the meat and let them pick the bone While they are us defending; With chicken fights unending We'll pass our days in pleasure; We'll drink from joy's full measure. [Illustration] A DEMOCRATIC WAKE. Dramatis Personae _Count Luie:_ . . . . . _A Democratic Wheel-horse (Toast Master)._ _Sir Obreon:_ . . . . . _A Counsellor._ _Sir La Mutt:_ . . . . _A Literatus._ _Filipino Ilustrados and Politicos._ _Several died-in-the-wool Democrats._ _Scene: Hotel de Francosa._ COUNT LUIE: Noble compatriots, I greet thee well. When war's ensanguined plain in tears of blood Weeps for the fallen in a worthy cause, 'Twere well for us bereaved to sing their praise And thus commemorate their sacrifice. In all great battles, triumph oft doth hinge On questions small, but oft of great import; No matter if the sacrifice be great, So long as victory doth greet our clan. We trembled at the clamours of the mob And feared results, from its prophetic tone; But now we laugh to scorn their idle boasts, For we from out the fleshpots still can feed. And now in concert we would fain rejoice, While mourning for the fallen in the fray. Hence, if some loyal soul can requ'em voice, 'Twere fit and proper in this fun'ral hour. One consolation, disappointment soothes: With fewer numbers in our shattered ranks, Appointments to positions are the same, And so each patriot holds a _flusher hand_. _(Enthusiastic applause.)_ A DEMOCRAT: But, sire, it were a sacrifice most vain. Had renegades from out our glorious clan Not pictured formerly in public mind That rule Republican indeed were wise. And so dissatisfaction, like to yeast, Deep in the thoughtless mob did swell to burst Because our party purposed to at once Enfranchise this unhappy down-trod race. SIR OBREON: But should we here our dirty linen air, And so a weapon place in varlet hand? Methinks 'twere wise to bury in the past Those petty broils and bravely forward march.