Classic Poem

CHARLES E. HUGHES' SONG

They say that I'm as cold as ice,
My manner folks call rigid.
Though I endeavor to be nice,
They still insist I'm frigid.
My heart, beneath this frock coat black
Still beats with warmth a plenty.
Yes, once I made a funny crack
And slapped a fellow on the back
('Twas back in nineteen-twenty).
I scatter sunshine where I go.
At caucus or at parley.
But still my soul is filled with woe,
For no one calls me Charley.

Refrain

I laugh and joke with common folk
At caucus and at parley,
But still I'm told I'm stern and cold,
And no one calls me Charley.
I used to be known as the silver-tongued orator,
Many long years ago.
My resonant squawk was the pride of Chautauquas,
Many long years ago.
From Lincoln, Nebraska, to Maine and Alaska
My name was on everyone's tongue.
I won their affections — except at elections,
When I was invariably stung.

Refrain

For I'm the perpetual candidate,
And I long for a place in the sun.
I'm glum and dejected, I feel quite neglected.
I run every year but I'm never elected.
My manner paternal and bland I date
From the year I first started to run,
For I'm the perpetual candidate,
Candidate — candidate.
Yes, I'm the perpetual candidate,
And I long for a place in the sun.