There's a certain class of people
In this sublunary sphere--
(And if I'm not mistaken,
You'll find them even here),
Who think the rare old precept
To the old Athenians given,
And esteemed so full of wisdom
That they deemed it came from Heaven,--
In this glorious age of progress
Has become quite obsolete;
So they choose another motto,
For these latter times more meet.
It is "know thyself" no longer--
So they say, and who can doubt them--
But "Mortal, know thy neighbors,
And everything about them!"
To attain this worthy object,
All other cares forego;
To gain this glorious knowledge,
You cannot stoop too low.
Heed not the ancient croakers,
Who ask, with solemn phiz--
"Is it anybody's business
What another's business is?"
No! we'd join the glorious party,
That to giant size has grown,
To mind our neighbor's business,
And "Know nothing" of our own,
Hurrah! for the Rights of Meddlers!
For the freedom of our day!
For the glorious Age of Progress!
And for Young America!