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(323 quotes found)



Ambrose Bierce

“TARIFF, n. A scale of taxes on imports, designed to protect the domestic producer against the greed of his consumer.

The Enemy of Human Souls Sat grieving at the cost of coals; For Hell had been annexed of late, And was a sovereign Southern State.

"It were no more than right," said he,
"That I should get my fuel free. The duty, neither just nor wise, Compels me to economize -- Whereby my broilers, every one, Are execrably underdone. What would they have? --although I yearn To do them nicely to a turn, I can't afford an honest heat. This tariff makes even devils cheat! I'm ruined, and my humble trade All rascals may at will invade: Beneath my nose the public press Outdoes me in sulphureousness; The bar ingeniously applies To my undoing my own lies; My medicines the doctors use
(Albeit vainly) to refuse To me my fair and rightful prey And keep their own in shape to pay; The preachers by example teach What, scorning to perform, I teach; And statesmen, aping me, all make More promises than they can break. Against such competition I Lift up a disregarded cry. Since all ignore my just complaint, By Hokey-Pokey! I'll turn saint!" Now, the Republicans, who all Are saints, began at once to bawl Against _his_ competition; so There was a devil of a go! They locked horns with him, tete-a-tete In acrimonious debate, Till Democrats, forlorn and lone, Had hopes of coming by their own. That evil to avert, in haste The two belligerents embraced; But since 'twere wicked to relax A tittle of the Sacred Tax,
'Twas finally agreed to grant The bold Insurgent-protestant A bounty on each soul that fell Into his ineffectual Hell. --Edam Smith”







Ambrose Bierce

“TARIFF, n. A scale of taxes on imports, designed to protect the domestic producer against the greed of his consumer.

The Enemy of Human Souls Sat grieving at the cost of coals; For Hell had been annexed of late, And was a sovereign Southern State.

"It were no more than right," said he,
"That I should get my fuel free. The duty, neither just nor wise, Compels me to economize -- Whereby my broilers, every one, Are execrably underdone. What would they have? --although I yearn To do them nicely to a turn, I can't afford an honest heat. This tariff makes even devils cheat! I'm ruined, and my humble trade All rascals may at will invade: Beneath my nose the public press Outdoes me in sulphureousness; The bar ingeniously applies To my undoing my own lies; My medicines the doctors use
(Albeit vainly) to refuse To me my fair and rightful prey And keep their own in shape to pay; The preachers by example teach What, scorning to perform, I teach; And statesmen, aping me, all make More promises than they can break. Against such competition I Lift up a disregarded cry. Since all ignore my just complaint, By Hokey-Pokey! I'll turn saint!" Now, the Republicans, who all Are saints, began at once to bawl Against _his_ competition; so There was a devil of a go! They locked horns with him, tete-a-tete In acrimonious debate, Till Democrats, forlorn and lone, Had hopes of coming by their own. That evil to avert, in haste The two belligerents embraced; But since 'twere wicked to relax A tittle of the Sacred Tax,
'Twas finally agreed to grant The bold Insurgent-protestant A bounty on each soul that fell Into his ineffectual Hell. --Edam Smith”



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