The Last Cabinet Council

Air, There's Nae Luck About the House

Sly Matty's face was overcast,
His hopes began to lower,
His kitchen cabinet he called,
Besides the lawful four;
And bade them with a scolding tongue
That each should truly say,
If any chance remained for him
On next election day.

For it's Boyd and Harris, Linn and Price,
And Swartwout they do say.
Have toted off the nation's cash,
As lawful Loco prey.

Then up steps Amos, grim and thin,
With sick and ghastly look,
You never would have thought that he
Was scullion and chief cook;
Now Matty dear, says he, I'm sure,
The game is up with us,
Those cursed Whigs will beat us now,
They kick up such a fuss.

About the outside quires and cash
You'd think this nation's broke,
And Blair, and I, and Calhoun think,
This time they do not joke.