In seventeen ninety-one, the law was passed, A whiskey tax to make debts last. Alexander Hamilton led the call, To fund the nation and unite us all. But frontier folk, with grain in hand, Saw their whiskey taxed across the land. No cash to pay, just toil and strife, Their whiskey was their trade, their life. Hamilton’s plan had noble intent, To pay war debts and build government. But small-scale farmers bore the cost, Their livelihoods at risk, their freedom lost. The eastern elite paid less by design, While frontier folks walked a harder line. They cried, "This tax is unjust and cruel! We’ll not be pawns in your federal rule!" Oh, seventeen ninety-one, hear our plea, We fight for life and liberty. A farmer’s wage is all we own, Don’t take our whiskey; don’t take our home. A mysterious man named "Tom the Tinker" would call, With notes left in stills, to stand proud and tall. "Don't pay the excess !" his scrawlings would say, Threatening those who collected the government pay John Neville's fine house was put to the flame, In western defiance, they shouted his name The frontier was angry, the message was clear, The cost of the levy was paid for in fear President Washington marched with troops so vast, Thirteen thousand strong, meant to hold the law fast. To prove the new government would stand the test of time, He pardoned the few men convicted of the crime. The rebels fled; their local cause undone, But a fight for fairness had just begun. In seventeen ninety-one, a lesson was taught A nation divided cannot be bought From whiskey tax to modern day strife, The echoes of protest shape our life Oh, seventeen ninety-one, hear our plea, We fight for life and liberty A farmer’s wage is all we own, Don’t take our whiskey; don’t take our home The White House declares a digital call, Tariffs rising to burden us all From steel mills’ clang to the farmer’s gate, A tax imposed decides our fate. No barns torched, but prices climb, The working folk pay every time The elites watch from towers high, Their wealth untouched while others cry No hot black Tar here, but hackers arise, Anonymous voices cutting through lies Leaks and firewalls burning bright, A new-age fight in cyber light Tom the Tinker’s spirit still roams, Not with fire, but coded tomes. From whiskey stills to import walls, The fight for fairness still calls. When tar and the feathers made scars of disgrace, We’ll find another way to shame your face. Shame Shame Hot tar and feathering was frontier rage, A protest act in a heated stage The tax was excess , not across the seas, A domestic levy meant to bring them to their knees Raise a glass to those who tried, To stand for rights though some defied They tarred and feathered the men back then— How do you think we should act now, my friend? Let me remind you, tariff collector today, George pardoned those who used tar and feather to say, They fought for their rights, and that’s my defend— My inspiration is those pardoned men, friend.

Tarred and Feathered Back Then"