Jacob GodbeyHow did you feel, you libertarians,Who spent your talents rallying noble reasonsAround the saloon, as if LibertyWas not to be found anywhere except at the barOr at a table, guzzling?How did you feel, Ben Pantier, and the rest of you,Who almost stoned me for a tyrantGarbed as a moralist,And as a wry-faced ascetic frowning upon Yorkshire pudding,Roast beef and ale and good will and rosy cheer—Things you never saw in a grog-shop in your life?How did you feel after I was dead and gone,And your goddess, Liberty, unmasked as a strumpet,Selling out the streets of Spoon RiverTo the insolent giantsWho manned the saloons from afar?Did it occur to you that personal libertyIs liberty of the mind,Rather than of the belly?
How did you feel, you libertarians,Who spent your talents rallying noble reasonsAround the saloon, as if LibertyWas not to be found anywhere except at the barOr at a table, guzzling?How did you feel, Ben Pantier, and the rest of you,Who almost stoned me for a tyrantGarbed as a moralist,And as a wry-faced ascetic frowning upon Yorkshire pudding,Roast beef and ale and good will and rosy cheer—Things you never saw in a grog-shop in your life?How did you feel after I was dead and gone,And your goddess, Liberty, unmasked as a strumpet,Selling out the streets of Spoon RiverTo the insolent giantsWho manned the saloons from afar?Did it occur to you that personal libertyIs liberty of the mind,Rather than of the belly?