Explore "For Mayor" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
O Abner Doble -- whose "catarrhal name" / Budd of that ilk might envy -- 'tis a rough / Rude thing to say, but it is plain enough / Your name is to be sneezed at: its acclaim / Will "fill the speaking trump of future fame" / With an impeded utterance -- a puff / Suggesting that a pinch or two of snuff / Would clear the tube and somewhat disinflame.
Nay, Abner Doble, you'll not get from me / My voice and influence: I'll cheer instead, / Some other man; for when my voice ascends a / Tall pinnacle of praise, and at high C / Sustains a chosen name, it shan't be said / My influence is naught but influenza.