From the Evening Star, March 25, 1914. By Philander Johnson.

We thought that Uncle Jim might need
    A little spell o’ rest.
In eloquence he took the lead
    An’ labored with the best.
We thought we’d slip a sinecure
    To this our favorite son,
An’ so we got him safe an’ sure
    A berth in Washington.

We met him there with furrowed brow
    An’ droopin’, weary eyes.
We couldn’t understand just how
    A man so good an’ wise
Could seem so overworked an’ sad,
    With such a victory won.
Our Uncle Jim went to the bad
    Up there in Washington.

When next election comes along
    The neighborhood intends
To bring him by a ballot strong
    Back here among his friends.
Though this may not appeal to him,
    Our duty must be done.
We’ve got to rescue Uncle Jim
    From work in Washington!