WE boast of this land as the home of the brave,
The land of the free, where we harbor the knave,
That crosses the ocean to make this his home,
Our laws to defy—for such have we no room.
All foreigners with unpronouncable [sic] names
That come to this land with their children and dames,
To make this their home, should abide by our laws,
Or should be transported, for any slim cause,
To some far-off island where torrid winds sweep,
Surrounded by water a thousand feet deep,
A thousand miles distant from any known land—
There let us transport the whole anarchist band.
There let them abide, and if they must needs kill,
On anarchists only they could try their skill
With pistol, stiletto, or dynamite bomb,
And send them to Hades—or else kingdom come.
If we have no statutes that cover the bill
To transport offenders who menace to kill, 
Let Congress make haste to enact needed laws
To transport all foes of this country for cause.
So long as one anarchist roams o’er this land
No one will be safe from his treacherous hand;
Who’ll be the next victim the anarchists know;
Some well paid assassin will strike the next blow.
The whole nation mourns o’er the loss of our Chief;
The widow is wailing, and great is her grief,
Because one assassin, with pistol in hand,
Has murdered the head of this prosperous land.
We boast of free press, and we boast of free speech,
But let us no longer such sentiments preach;
Sedition is rampant all over this land,
Which should be put down with an unsparing hand.
Wipe out from this country the anarchist breed;
Suppress all the papers that foster their creed;
Transport them at once to some isle in the sea,
Away from the rest of the world let them be
To practice their creed to their own heart’s content,
With pistol or bomb, or foul murder intent;
And thus in a slow, but a gradual way,
The anarchist faction would all pass away.