The bird that should have been selected as the emblem of our country, the
bird of patience, forbearance, perseverance, and the bird of terror when
aroused, is the mule. There is no bird that combines more virtues to the
square foot than the mule. With the mule emblazoned on our banners, we
should be a terror to every foe. We are a nation of uncomplaining hard
workers. We mean to do the fair thing by everybody. We plod along, doing
as we would be done by. So does the mule. As a nation we occasionally
stick our ears forward, and fan flies off of our forehead. So does the
mule. We allow parties to get on and ride as long as they behave
themselves. So do does the mule. But when any nation sticks spurs in our
flanks, and tickles our heels with a straw, we come down stiff-legged in
front, our ears look to the beautiful beyond, our voice is cut loose, and
is still for war, and our subsequent end plays the snare drum on anything
that gets in reach of us, and strikes terror to the hearts of all tyrants.
So does the mule.