  When the hurrah days are over And the ballots all are cast, There's perchance a tinge of sadness, Over glories that are past; But we have our compensations; For no matter how it flits There's a joy that beats unbounded When the campaign liar quits! While the red fire and the rockets Fill the skies with rosy glare, There's a kind of inspiration In the shouts and music there; But we pass it up with gladness And contentment on us sits, When the ballots all are counted And the campaign liar quits! He is trained in facts and figures, He's a prodigy, in sooth; He can tell the smoothest story, But he shies away from truth; So we gladly lose the glory, (It was never worth two bits!) When the ballots all are counted And the campaign liar quits! So, no matter how it ended! Whether your men lost or mine. We can shake hands all together O'er this recompense divine; That exalts our blessed wits; And we know when all is over That the campaign liar quits! |
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