The government is with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, it lays waste our powers:
Little we see about us that is ours;
We have voted our guts away, a sordid boon!
It bares the intern’s bosom to the moon;
With chambered flatulence howling at all hours,
Promises tossed aside like wilted flowers;
For all of this, we are out of tune;
It serves us not--Dear Lord! I’d rather be
Of anarcho-capitalist/libertarian bent;
So might I, standing on some pleasant lea,
Breathe freedom’s bliss the Founding Fathers meant;
Or glimpse old Mises rising from the sea
To assuage Rand’s clarion rant of malcontent.