<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342921" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The American Party</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, Marcus D. Boruck, me hearty,<br>I sympathize wid ye, poor lad!<br>A man that's shot out of his party<br>Is mighty onlucky, bedad!<br>An' the sowl o' that man is sad.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, Marcus, gossoon, ye desarve it<br>Ye know for yerself that ye do,<br>For ye j'ined not intendin' to sarve it,<br>But hopin' to make it sarve you,<br>Though the roll of its members wuz two.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The other wuz Pixley, an' 'Surely,'<br>Ye said, 'he's a kite that wall sail.'<br>An' so ye hung till him securely,<br>Enactin' the role of a tail.<br>But there wuzn't the ghost of a gale!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the party to-day has behind it<br>A powerful backin', I'm told;<br>For just enough Irish have j'ined it<br>(An' I'm m'anin' to be enrolled)<br>To kick ye out into the cold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's hard on ye, darlint, I'm thinkin'<br>So young-so American, too-<br>Wid bypassers grinnin' an' winkin',<br>An' sayin', wid ref'rence to you:<br>'Get onto the murtherin' Joo!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Republicans never will take ye<br>They had ye for many a year;<br>An' Dimocrats-angels forsake ye!<br>If ever ye come about here<br>We'll brand ye and scollop yer ear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ambrose+Bierce">Ambrose Bierce</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342921" data-title="The American Party de Ambrose Bierce" data-description="Oh, Marcus D. Boruck, me hearty, I sympathize wid ye, poor lad! A man that's shot out of his party Is mighty onlucky, bedad! An' the sowl o' that man is sad. But, Marcus, gossoon, ye desarve it Ye know for yerself that ye do, For ye j'ined not in..."></div> </div> </div>

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