The Hartford Herald

VOL. 8.
The Candidate.
"Father, who travels our road so late?"
"Hush, my child, 'tis the candidate!
Fit example of human woes,
Early he comes and late he goes!
He greets the woman with courtly grace;
He kisses the baby's dirty face:
He calls to the fence the farmer at work:
He bores the merchant. he bores the clerk
The blacksmith, while his anvil rings,
He greets. and this is the song he sings
Howdy, howdy, how d'ye do?
How is your wife, and how are you?
Ah! It fits my fist as no other can.
The horny hand of the workingman.'"
"Husband, who is that at the gate?
"Hide, my love, 'tis the candidate!
"Husband, why can't he work like you?
Has he nothing at all at home to do?"
"My dear, whenever a man is down,
No cash at home and no credit in town,
Too plain to preach, and too proud to beg,
Too timid to rob, and too lazy to dig
Then over his horse his leg he flings.
And to the dear people this song he sings:
'Howdy, howdy, how d'ye do?
How is your wife, and how are you?
Ah! It fits my fist as no other can.
The horny hand of the workingman.'"
Brothers, you who work early and late,
Ask these things of the candidate:
What is his record? How does he stand
At home? No matter about his hand.
Be it hard or soft, so it is not prone
To close over money not his own.
Has he in view no thieving plan?
Is he honest and capable?—he's your man!
Cheer such a man till the welkin rings!
Join in the chorus which he sings:
"Howdy, howdy, how d'ye do?
How is your wife, and how are you?
Ah! It fits my fist as no other can.
The honest hand of a workingman!"
—Selected.