When Tyler Found the Reins of State

Air: Woodland Mary

When Tyler found the reins of State
So firm within his tyrant grasp,
He chuckled at the course of fate,
And then resolved the Whigs to rasp,

In course of time the veto came,
Inflated like a huge balloon—
The Captain thought while he did reign
He'd hunt, till death, "that same old Coon."

"That same old Coon" sat looking on,
And seem'd to ponder o'er the scene;
He wonder'd much, and studied long,
Why John did with the Locos lean.
The varmint thought John's head was crack'd,
Or he'd been stricken by the moon;
Of sense, he knew, John's head much lack'd.
To think he'd kill " that same old Coon."
But John, with this, was not content,

More vetoes he must give his friends—
His perfidy would have free vent;
Corrupt and vicious were his ends.
The wolf, clothed like a sheep, came forth—
Again he played the self-same tune:
From East to West, from South to North,
He'd hunt, till death, "that same old Coon."
A traitor's mad career is short,

He soon becomes despised by all;
John Tyler, though within his fort,
Will witness soon a tyrant's fall.
His merciless proscription told,
Too well, how soon would be his doom;
The people, now, will soon behold
His downfall by "that same old Coon."

Whigs! to your posts!—lift up your voice,
You '11 yet behold a joyful day;
Let all throughout the land rejoice,
And shout aloud for Henry Clay
For Henry Clay, the people's man,
Prosperity will be the boon,
Defeat the Loco Tyler clan—
Hurrah, boys, for " that same old Coon."