Across the vast plain the Politician stood
arm-in-arm with his Pipe-making friend,
and together they walked past the darkening wood,
on a path with many a bend.

"And I'll lower taxes," the Politican did say,
And the Pipe-maker said not a word
but on his pipe kept puffing so silently away
and the Politican looked injured.

"Why do you not speak?" he asked with a sigh
that coneveyed his true feelings at this,
but the Pipe-maker just looked at him with one solemn eye,
and held his good pipe in his fist.