The Rubber or Mat's Last Game
Air: Unfortunate Miss Bailey
Our little Mat, from Kinderhook, no friend to country quarters,
Resolved to rule a second term, or dangle in his garters;
Though Lindenwold grew cabbages, he got but little of it;
'Twixt public crib, and private crib, there's a difference in the profit!
Great difference in the profit! Great difference in the profit!
Ye office-seeking sycophants, now ready let each one be;
The Argus, with its hundred eyes, looked every way for Sunday;
Mat sung all tunes in double voice—one bass, the other treble;
While in the Senate, Silas Wright was playing second fiddle.
Wright playing second fiddle! Wright playing second fiddle!
Importers and our factories Mat wished in good condition,
And Slavery 'twas a sacred thing, and so was Abolition.'
He was for Union and Repeal— more no than yes"—the Treaty;
He loved Protection and Free Trade; Sub-Treasury notes and Specie .'
All salaries paid in specie! All salaries paid in specie!
Then Agriculture—he revered it! he himself a "happy Tiller,
'At first, he bought his hay and oats, but past two years" was seller;
"Had reclaimed twelve acres bog"—in the "useful" was their true vassal,
"But for him to talk to farmers, was carrying coals to Newcastle."
Mat " carrying coals to Newcastle!" Mat " carrying coals to Newcastle!"
And oh! the generous rival;—Calhoun, although Quixotic,
Was an honest Nu'lifier! — Cass, vain, but patriotic,
Johnson, an honourable man—all were in his opinion!
Dick never wrote that mail report, but doubtless killed an Indian!
Dick doubtless killed an Indian! Dick doubtless killed an Indian!
Now any mortal man but Mat—such studied non-committal,
Such twidling, twaddling, twisting, would very much be-little;
He patted Cass-men on the back, and Johnson and Calhoun-men;
Soft-sawdered all mankind, and loved—Lord! how he loved the women!
Who doesn't love the women! Who doesn't love the women!
Now Mat had learnt in Jackson times, in LocoFoco sections,
That soldiering and rub-a-dubs, were just the thing for elections;
But his merit-roll was mighty short in service thus exciting;
He "talked of Battles," snug at home, when others did the fighting!
Dick Johnson did the fighting! Dick Johnson did the fighting!
Quoth Mat, I need the Hickory poles to reach the place assigned me!
I'll mount the Presidential horse and pillion-Polk behind me!
Old Tennessee can help me more than scores of " Accidentals,"
If she'll rig me out in the General's cocked hat and regimentals!
Old Hickory's regimentals! Old Hickory's regimentals!
Like bag on bean-pole, such a ft, the tailor tribe were shock'd at;
Old soldiers snickered to see Mat play general in a cocked hat!
Old Hickory shakes his sides to see how slouchingly his suit sets,
While " Fuss in boots" makes awkward strides to " follow in his footsteps!"
In his "illustrious footsteps!" In his "illustrious footsteps!"
Then all contributed their mite: the Argus, "public feeling;"
Old Hickory furnished, rub-a-dubs—John Tyler, double-dealing!
Ritchie, to gull the populace, fluttered like a stool-pigeon!
Hoyt furnished funds, Dick Davis wind, and Butler the Religion!
Ben Butler the Religion! Ben Butler the Religion!
And Humbug Benton, having heard, although he never read it,
That Balaam's Ass had made a speech, reported to his credit,
Came forth in many a windy speech; for he felt some ambition,
Like his great prototype, to show an ass's sad condition!
The Ass's sad condition! The Ass's sad condition!
By ' British gold' and ' Biddle Banks,' he said he'd never be bought,
"Rumbled his belly full"— [King Lear] —like tempest in a tea-pot;
He always thought the popular breath like herring spoiled in curing,
But their "sober second thought," he hoped would be for Mat Van Buren!
For him and Mat Van Buren! For him and Mat Van Buren!
Prince John, too, fired with patriot zeal, met with responses hearty,
His honeyed voice, and spindle-shanks, devoted to " the Party;"
'Barn-Burners' and ' Old Hunkers' were dear alike to Matty,
If they'd resolve, nem. con. to vote their favourite son—his Pappy!
His well-fed, grateful Pappy! His well-fed, grateful Pappy!
Mat's nomination now was deemed as past all apprehension,
His rivals—jockey'd off the course — Mat 'heads' them in Convention!
But HENRY CLAY was waxing strong, while Mat grew faint and feeble;
Huzza for Clay, and exit Mat, cursing the stupid People!
Mat couldn't gull the People! Mat couldn't gull the People!
This song includes many important political references of the day. Most importantly, though, it mocks Jackson's Democratic party with his campaign song "The Hunters of Kentucky".