(Air of "Marching through. Georgia")

Gathered round our standards, boys, we face the fray again;

We have gathered in our might and here we will remain,

Till we win to victory and sweep the whole campaign,

While we are counting majorities.

To the next election, boys, 'twill find us side by side;

To the Grand Old Party, boys, its men so true and tried:

Let the toast go round the board and drink it in all pride,

While we are counting majorities

(Chorus)

We've a candidate who'll win, or else his name's not GAGE;

He will put the "Little Giant" in a little cage –

Won't he make them gnash their teeth and. kick themselves with rage,

While we are counting majorities.

(Chorus)

There is something coming, boys, we feel it in the air:

'Tis a tidal wave that’s made to mash them 'yond repair —

Where will we be at? Oho! You bet we'll all be there,

While we are counting majorities.

(Chorus)

When election day has come we'll vote our ticket straight;

Then will they be out of it for all they feel so great —

We won't do a thing to them but rub them off the slate,

While we are counting majorities.

(Chorus)

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Copyright © 2005 by Dan Wichlan
This poem was published with the written permission of the Jack London estate.
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