Election Songs

Air: A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea

When Harrison, the good and brave,
Was laid upon his bier,
The whigs then looked on me to save
The cause they held most dear,
The hero could not die without
A parting word for me;
He bade me truly carry out
The system of the free,

Chorus:

When Harrison, the good and brave,
Was laid upon his bier,
The whigs then look'd on me to save
The cause they held most dear.

These dying words do truly tell
How plain he did foresee.
That when to me his office fell,
All sense with it would flee.
I knew I dared not then proclaim
A word that would appal;
I'd strove high honours to obtain,
And hid my views from all.

Chorus

I promis'd fair, and told them then
That I would carry out
The measures those true-hearted men
Had warr'd so long about.

Though fain a mask I would retain,
My evil heart to hide,
That awful Bank-bill when it came
It slipp'd it quite aside.

Chorus

When first to me the bill was brought,
I pious scruples feign'd;
When chang'd to suit my ev'ry thought,
The veto power I claim'd.
Another term I wish'd to run,
And so, without delay,
Forgetting all the whigs had done,
Their cause I did betray.

Chorus

But they are just what they pretend—
My conduct they despise—
Their rigid virtue would not bend
To aught beneath the skies.
My native state it knew so well
How oft I've "jump'd just so,"
To me it bid a last farewell
A long, "long time ago."

Chorus

I'm like the old Egyptian king.
My heart's so hard to-day;
All o'er the land a curso I bring
It's glory's pass'd away.
Jackson did bad, and Van still worse,
And I too bad to name;
On history's page we'll stand accurs'd—
Our deeds its pages stain,

Chorus

From zenith's heights to nadir's view
We've brought our own fair land,
The merchant, tradesman, farmer too
Have 8ufTer'd by our hand.
The boasted blessings of free trade
We now have fairly proved,
Distress o'er all our land has made;
Yet we cannot be moved.

Chorus

In vain I've reached ambition's height;—
I can't retain my throne;
And soon, alas! I'll sink in night—
No party will me own.
There's not a thought to give relief
When all my power is gone;
"The worm, the canker, and the grief,"
Will prey on me alone.

Chorus

In wrath the nation speaks, Depart!
Its tones like thunder seem!
I've acted a disgraceful part
Since president I've been.

Earth mourns! for Jackson, Van, and I
Have ruled with tyrant's sway,
The brightest land beneath the sky ;—
Its freedom cast away.
But Henry Clay, he is a match
For Jackson, Van and me;
The chains we've forged he'll soon despatch,
And set the people free.