A hundred and fifty years ago and more, a man wise in the ways of the world wrote that a democracy lasts only until the public discovers that their vote holds the key to the public treasury. They will vote for the candyman, he said, the man who will give them things for nothing, the man who will swing open the doors to the Treasury in return for their votes. But it can never last, he said sorrowfully.  The Treasury soon runs out of money, and the people who have become dependent upon the candyman for their very existence turn against him, and there are riots in the streets and the democracy inevitably becomes a dictatorship.

The Republic’s near death
Very near her last breath
Gut shot in the candyman’s lairs
He put on a disguise
And with candyman’s eyes
He smiled as he offered his wares
His smile promised the moon
And so then very soon
The people were dancing outside
The slick candy man’s store
Sick and begging for more
As our country went on her last ride
Yes the music still plays
As the Left counts the days
Till they bury the country once great
Now done in by the wiles
And the candyman’s smiles
Who now glories in our dying state