Classic Poem

Lords of this United Nation,
Hear the earnest supplication
Of your very humble sub-
Scriber, starving Thomas Grubb!

Tax this cotton! Tax it high,
Tax it dead, before we die!
Tax the planter, tax the land,
Overseer and the hand;
Screw and gin-house, gin and band!

Tax the mule and tax the plow,
Everywhere and any-how!
Tax it top, and tax it tap,
Upper, middle, bottom crap!

Tax the lint and tax the seed,
Tax the universal weed!
Tax the very bumble-bees
In the blossoms; tax 'em, please!

Lay a double premium
On the boll-and-army-“wum!”
And a double bounty set
On rust and rot and drouth and wet.

Tax it! Tax it! don't relax it—
Chain it, stamp it, d——n it, tax it!
Tax it deaf and dumb and blind—
Out of sight and out of mind!

Then the South shall shine again
With her grain and grasses!—then
For your grandeurs, night and day,
Your petitioner shall pray.