The Property Tax.

Bad luck an' ruinashun
Attind their legislashun,
They've brought ipou this nashun despair au' miser-ee;
They tould us we wor dhramin'.
An' thin wid thriumph baimin',
They soon began their schaimin' to tax our proper-tee.

The Major, in his lictures,
He dhrow some ugly pictures—
I had me own conjictures of how it all would be—
He sed the debts accruin'
Would sind us all to ruin,
As mischief was a brewin', he'd tax our proper-tee.

Ses he: "It's all bekays, boys,
Those stupid pranks o' Grey's boys,
Has filled me wid amaze, boys,—ye mind me, d'ye see?
I'm forced to tax me naybors,
Ther airain's an' ther labors,
It's railly thrue, be jabers, I've taxed their proper-tee.

"I hate yer spoutin' praters,
Yer dimagogs an' thraitors,
Me frinds, the speculathors have always stuck to me;
The land-tax was too heavy,
An' too sivaire a levy,
To plaise the squattin' bevy I've taxed all proper-tee."

They'll thry to make a rise, boys,
But if ye all are wise, boys,
Ye'll open up yer eyes, boys, an' live from taxes free;
Begorra its outrageous,
In these inlightened ages,
This blot on histhry's pages, a tax on proper-tee.