'Twas brillig, and the candidates
Did gamble on the either wabe,
All mimsy were the running mates
And mome promises outgabe.
"Beware the Partywock, my son,
The bilge that binds, the clause that catch;
Beware the Caucus-Bird, and shun
The White House Bandersnatchl
He took his votal sword in hand,
Long time the wardsome schmoes he sought,
So rested he by the Election Tree
And stood awhile and thought;
And as in November thought he stood
The Partywock with eyes of tax
Came-paining through through the Public Good
And gave him forty whacks.
One-two, one- two, and he was through,
The fiscal blade his income nicked;
It left him smote, and with h is vote
The rival Wockies licked.
"And didst return thy Partywock?
Come to our office, squeamish boy!
O frabjius day, can we make hay!"
Re-negging in its joy.
T'was, 'tis, and 'twill thus brillig be
While foolish toves applaud the wabe,
And each mome raths, in hopes that he
Will momer raths outgrabe!