And in less than ten thousand years, there's no doubt-- And he worried about it-- Our supply of lumber and coal will give out-- And he worried about it. Just then the ice-age will return cold and raw, Frozen men will stand stiff with arms outstretched in awe, As if vainly beseeching a general thaw-- And he worried about it.
His wife took in washing--half a dollar a day-- He didn't worry about it-- His daughter sewed shirts the rude grocer to pay-- He didn't worry about it. While his wife beat her tireless rub-a-dub-dub On the washboard drum of her old wooden tub, He sat by the stoves and he just let her rub-- He didn't worry about it.
No gilt or tinsel taints the dress Of him who holds the natal power, No weighty helmet's fastenings press On brow that shares Columbia's dower, No blaring trumpets mark the step Of him with mind on peace intent, And so--HATS OFF! Here comes the State, A modest King: THE PRESIDENT.
No cavalcade with galloping squads Surrounds this man, whose mind controls The actions of the million minds Whose hearts the starry banner folds; Instead, in simple garb he rides, The King to whom grim Fate has lent Her dower of righteousness and faith To guide his will: THE PRESIDENT.
The ancient lands are struck with awe, Here stands a power at which they scoffed, Kings, rulers, scribes of pristine states. Are dazed,--at Columbia they mocked; Yet human wills have forged new states, Their wills on justice full intent, And fashioned here a lowly King, The People's choice: THE PRESIDENT.
War-ravaged, spent, and torn--old worlds With hatred rent, turn to the West, "Give help!" they cry--"our souls are wracked, On every side our kingdom's pressed." And see! Columbia hastens forth, Her healing hand to peace is lent, Her sword unsheathed has forged the calm, Her sons sent by THE PRESIDENT.
Full many a storm has tossed the barque Since first it had its maiden trip, Full many a conflagration's spark Has scorched and seared the laboring ship; And yet it ploughs a straightway course, Through wrack of billows; wind-tossed, spent, On sails the troubled Ship of State, Steered forward by THE PRESIDENT.
STAND UP! HATS OFF! He's coming by, No roll of drums peals at his course, NOW GIVE A CHEER! He's part of you, Your will with his: the nation's force. And--as he passes--breathe a prayer, May justice to his mind be lent, And may the grace of Heaven be with The man who rules: OUR PRESIDENT.