Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE OLD HOKUM BUNCOMBE, by ROBERT EMMET SHERWOOD



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THE OLD HOKUM BUNCOMBE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: How dear to my heart are the grand politicians
Last Line: The moss-covered buncombe we all love so well.
Subject(s): Politics & Government


How dear to my heart are the grand politicians
Who constantly strive for the popular votes,
Indulging in platitudes, trite repetitions,
And time-honored bromides surrounded with quotes;
Though equally verbose opponents assail them
With bitter invective, they never can quell
The force of the buncombe, which never will fail them --
The old hokum buncombe we all know so well.
The old hokum buncombe,
The iron-clad buncombe,
The moss-covered buncombe we all know so well.

They aim to make friends of the laboring classes --
The trust of the people is sacred with them --
They swear that they're slaves to the will of the masses,
They hem and they haw, and they haw and they hem;
They rave with a vehemence almost terrific,
There isn't a doubt which they cannot dispel,
They revel in orgies of hope beatific --
And serve us the buncombe we all know so well.
The old hokum buncombe,
The iron-clad buncombe,
The moss-covered buncombe we all know so well.

Their torrents of words are a sure paregoric
For all of the ills to which mankind is prey.
They pose as a Hamlet lamenting the Yorick
Who typifies that which their rivals betray.
They picture perfection in every effusion;
We gaze at Utopia under their spell,
And though it is only an optic illusion --
We fall for the buncombe we all know so well.
The old hokum buncombe,
The iron-clad buncombe,
The moss-covered buncombe we all love so well.





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