Fitz-Greene Halleck and Joseph Rodman Drake

“ Is lost if the butter-boys win—
The farmers are quaking, the worst is dismayed,
Omnipotent Fundable trembles afraid,
And Wall Street is all in a din.
’Twasn’t so when the banks in a body prepared
To cut their own corporate throats;
And, biting their thumbs at the farmers, declared
To the thunderstruck dealers in butter and lard,
They would handle no more of their notes.
Oh, Fundable! Fundable! look to thine own,
Now, now, let thy management shine;
I fear the young Franklin will worry thee down,
And if all the bad paper be kicked out of town,
Dear Fundable! where will be thine? ”

“ And let Tenth-Ward Electors shake
Committees to the devil.
In vain—for like a cruel cat
That sucks a child to death,
Or like the Madagascar bat
Who poisons with his breath,
The fiend—the fiend is on me still ”

“ That poets can never be cronies;
Unbuckle your harness, in peace let us dwell;
Our goose-quills will canter together as well
As a pair of Prime27 mouse-colored ponies.
Once blended in spirit, we’ll make our appeal,
And by law be incorporate too;
Apply for a charter in crackers to deal;
A fly-flapper rampant shall shine on our seal,
And the firm shall be “Croaker & Co.”
Fun! prosper the union—smile, Fate, on its birth! ”