Said Dan McGann to a foreign man who worked at the selfsame bench,
‘Let me tell you this,’ and for emphasis he flourished a Stilson wrench;
‘Don’t talk to me of the bourjoissee, don’t open your mouth to speak
Of your socialists or your anarchists, don’t mention the bolsheveek,
For I’ve had enough of this foreign stuff, I’m sick as a man can be
Of the speech of hate, and I’m tellin’ you straight that this is the land
‘If you want to brag, just take that flag an’ boast of its field o’ blue,
An’ praise the dead an’ the blood they shed for the peace o’ the likes
Enough you’ve raved,’ and once more he waved his wrench in a forceful way,
‘O’ the cunning creed o’ some Russian breed; I stand for the U.S.A.!
I’m done with your fads, and your wild-eyed lads. Don’t flourish your rag
Where I can see or by night there’ll be tall candles around your bed.
‘So tip your hat to a flag like that! Thank God for its stripes an’ stars!
Thank God you’re here where the roads are clear, away from your kings and
I can’t just say what I feel to-day, for I’m not a talkin’ man,
But, first an’ last, I am standin’ fast for all that’s American.
So don’t you speak of the bolsheveek, it’s sick of that stuff I am!
One God, one flag is the creed I brag! I’m boostin’ for Uncle Sam.’