A Poem on Election Day, Author Unknown, Ca. 1760

From Publications of the Colonial Society of Massachusetts, Transactions. xviii (1915-1916). 60-62.

1.
When Nature smiles in vernal bloom
Emergâd from winters horrid gloom,
And Maia decks the ground,
When Sol just quits the bull, & shines
Progressive in the heavenly twins,
Walking thâ Ecliptic round.

2.
When Virgins quit their winter Hue
And living blood begins to flow,
Along their azure veins;
When pliant as the vine, they bend,
And joyfully do condescend
To put on Cupids chains.

3.
A certain time we then behold,
Long by the Almanac foretold
And callâd Election day;
A day of frolicking and mirth,
In that small portion of the earth
The Massachusetts bay.

4.
The city swarms with every sort
Of black and white, and every sort
Of high, low, rich and poor;
Squaws, negroes, deputies in scores
And ministers & Counsellors
Are seen at every door.

5.
Long before phoebus looks upon
The outskirts of the horison,
The blacks their forces summon.
Tables & benches, chairs, & stools
Rum-bottles, Gingerbread & bowls
Are lugâd into the common.

6.
Thither resorts a motley crew,
Of Whites & Blacks & Indians too
And Trulls of every sort.
There all day long they sit & drink,
Swear, sing, play paupaw, dance and stink
There Bacchus holds his court.

7.
But yonder comes a scarlet throng,
Marching in solemn state along
His Excellencys guard-
Who after friendly mutual greeting
Conduct him to the old Brick meeting,
To sit & hear the word.

8.
This discipline they soon dispatch,
Unless Tom Frink should chance to speak,
Then down they hurry all
With Quickenâd pace & hungry guts
Like flies, unto the Honey pots
To dine at Fanueil Hall.

9.
There through the wide-extended doors
Pass deputies & Councillors,
And parsons with their bands on,
There, quick they seize upon their seats,
And every one sits down & eats
What first he lays his hands on.

10.
And after they have cleared the Dishes
They keep their seats & drink like fishes
Till four oâclock and after.
Then to the Town house trot away
To do the business of the day,
According to the charter.

11.
Meanwhile throughout the joyful town,
King Georges health is toasted round,
And every face looks gay.
With jocund mirth each house abounds
The echoing air repeats the sounds
Time sweetly flows away.

12.
But night at length invests the skies,
And Sol, to lend us light denies.
Then some go staggering home.
While sleep begins our eyes to lock,
The watchman cries, ãpast twelve oâclockä
And silence reigns alone.