Classic Poem

Your Garibaldi missed the mark! You see
The end of life's to cheat, and not to be
Cheated: The knave is nobler than the fool!
Get all you can and keep it! Life's a pool,
The best luck wins; if Virtue starves in rags,
I laugh at Virtue; here's my money-bags!
Here's righteous metal! We have kings, I say,
To keep cash going, and the game at play;
There's why a king wants money — he'd be missed
Without a fertilizing civil list.
Do but try
The question with a steady moral eye!
The colonel strives to be a brigadier,
The marshal, constable. Call the game fair,
And pay your winners! Show the trump, I say!
A renegade's a rascal — till the day
They make him Pasha: is he rascal then?
What with these sequins? Bah! you speak to Men,
And Men want money — power — luck — life's joy —
Those take who can: we could, and fobbed Savoy;
For those who live content with honest state,
They're public pests; knock we 'em on the pate!
They set a vile example! Quick — arrest
That Fool, who ruled and failed to line his nest.
Just hit a bell, you'll see the clapper shake —
Meddle with Priests, you'll find the barrack wake —
Ah! Princes know the People's a tight boot,
March 'em sometimes to be shot and to shoot,
Then they'll wear easier. So let them preach
The righteousness of howitzers; and teach
At the fag end of prayer: " Now, slit their throats!
My holy Zouaves! my good yellow-coats! "
We like to see the Holy Father send
Powder and steel and lead without an end,
To feed Death fat; and broken battles mend.