OldMaBarker contributed this poem about Jack Franks:
Mr. (or Ms.) FranksLies’ above poem compelled me to vie w/ him, with one off my own:
“Beware Jackanapes Franks!: The Vicious Wolf at Our Doors”
Old Jackanapes, in whose WL bank we deposited our notes,
Is a greedy miser who was ever at our very throats;
He kept all his victims in non-stop arrears
By lending them minutes and charging them years.
The twelvemonth roll’d round and we’d never forget
On the counter before us to pay him our ‘debt.’
We reckon up the marks he has chalked on our doors,
Pay up and ‘Vote for ME!’ and begin brand new scores.
How long he will lend us, how much we may owe,
No angel will tell us, no mortal may know.
At fivescore, at fourscore, at threescore and ten,
He may ‘close’ our account with a stroke of his pen.
This only we know –amid sorrows and joys
Old Franks has been easy and kind with “His Boys.”
Though he must have and will have and does have his “pay,”
We have found him ‘false-pleasant’ enough in his way.
He never forgets us, as others will do,–
I am sure he knows me, and I know he knows you,
For I see on your foreheads his mark that he lends
As a sign he remembers to visit his ‘friends’.
In his guise of County President (wearing his crown,–
His tax-book and assessment laid carefully down)
He has welcomed us every election, a glass in his hand,
And pledged the good health of our tax-oppressed band.
He’s a thief, we must own, but how many there be
That rob us less sneakily, but more than he?:
He has stripped the green bills that once covered us all,
He shouts ‘Let in the sunshine as fast as they fall.”
Paid young beauties erect his unasked-for Franks sign,
Frank’s laughs as he passes them, “Dull McHenry swine!”
“I’ll put my signs up wher’er I damn please!
Any that oppose me, come down by my LGBT draftees.”
But taxpayers’ moaning and groaning ain’t o’er,
We are pining and eking and sleepless no more,
And the hearts that were thumping like ships on the rocks
Beat as quiet and steady as meeting-house clocks.
Franks’ trump of ambition, loud blasting, so shrill,
May blow its long blast, but his echoes are still,
The spring-tides are past, but no billow may reach
The spoils he’s amassed as a huge Human-Leech.
We see that Franks robs us, we know that he cheats,
But we still find a weird charm in his dainty deceits,
While he buries the remembrance of all that was Blessed,
Love, friendship, Christian Goodness, plus the promise of rest.
Awakening rays of Dawn! How hopeful their repose,
While the dewdrops fall soft in the breast of the rose!
How blest to the taxpayer that sweet hour of release
When Franks’ darkness is banished, and tax outrages cease.
And that grant o’ peace morn WILL come some fine day,
When Franks and his minions are all SWEPT AWAY!
And PURGE Jackanapes Franks from our over-taxed Land!