While listening to some of my music a few days ago, I came across an album of presidential campaign songs I had downloaded for some reason I’m not currently aware of.

While listening to a few of the more well-known ones, I happened across a small gem from the early-1800s, a now little-known ditty that was the official campaign song for John Quincy Adams – “Little Know Ye Who’s Comin’,” a bleak tune that tells the young America the horrible things that will befall it if the younger Adams fails to ascend to the presidency.

(To hear the song, visit this link.)

“Fire’s comin’, swords is comin’, pistols, guns and knives is comin’”

(Yes, subject-verb agreement isn’t necessary in songs ... or in a Quincy-less America. The category of “guns” would also seem to cover the aforementioned “pistols,” but there’s something to be said for cadence and the rule of three.)

“Famine’s comin’. Bannin’s comin’”

(I had initially thought the “g” was dropped to rhyme, but in the post-apocalyptic craziness that would have befallen a John Quincy-less America, perhaps the g’s were lost, destroyed or stolen. What a lawless world it would have been.)

“Slavery’s comin’. Knavery’s comin’”

(The 13th through 15th Amendments seem to have taken care of the slavery issue, but we can all agree that knavery is still a major problem in this country. Tricksters are as much a problem for us as they were our 19th century counterparts.)

“Wonder’s comin’. Plunder’s comin’”

(I assume they mean wonder in its emotional sense here, which wouldn’t seem like a bad thing by itself. However, given its rhyming company of plunder, it must be the sort of wonder with the negative connotation, found in phrases like “I wonder who just shot me in the kneecap” or “I wonder if anyone will find me before I bleed out.”)

“Jobbin’s comin’. Robbin’s comin’.

(Jobbing, I had to look up myself. It could mean the act of undertaking a crime or, specifically, using political clout to raise personal funds. Nice to see this is still an issue even in the 21st century.)

“Tears are comin’. Fears are comin’.”

(Although, sadly, not the new wave 1980s band “Tears for Fears.” Something tells me they may have scared more 19th century voters than threats of guns and knives would have. One chorus of “Shout” and they’d be voting for Quincy’s ticket.)

“Plague and pestilence is comin’.”

(Well, you can’t have plague without pestilence, but I would have hoped Quincy’s people wouldn’t have had to resort to cliches. Come on, Mr. Adams. You wrote the Monroe Doctrine. You can do better.)

And, finally:

“Hatin’s comin’. Satan’s comin’, if John Quincy not be comin’.”

(Well, there we go. Hate and the absolute manifestation of all evil within the universe. Can’t get much worse than that, I suppose.)

John Quincy’s song has spooked me so much that I’m writing him in for 2016’s election.

He’ll need a running mate, so I may have to dig up a vice president for him – Zombie Richard Nixon or Zombie Lyndon Johnson would work and have excellent vice presidential resumes.

And, to be honest, he’s less scary than anyone currently thinking of running for the country’s highest office.

Adams in 2016: He may be dead, but, if we elect him, his song promises we won’t be ... we hope.

Cliff McCollum is managing editor of the Gulf Coast Newspaper Group and an APA award-winning columnist. He can be reached at cmccollum@gulfcoastnewspapers.com