The Last Hope of Buchanan


TUNE -- The Last Rose of Summer.

'TIS the last hope of Bucky,
The bachelor lone,
O'er the loaves of the White House
And fishes to groan.

Few out-and-out hunkers,
Few locos are nigh,
To cheer up his spirits,
Or give sigh for sigh.


We'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
Thou aristo-crat Dem.;
Cass and Douglas are sleeping --
Go sleep thou with them.

And kindly we'll scatter
Dry leaves o'er the bed
Where thou'lt sleep, next November,
To politics dead.

So the hunkers shall follow,
The Demmys decay,
Who from liberty's girdle
The hem tore away.

When old friends have bolted,
When Hamlin has flown,
O, who would run over
The race-course alone?