I don't care how hard money is, I du believe with all my soul I du believe thet I should give From him my bread an' cheese air; I du believe thet all o' me Doth bear his souperscriptionWill, conscience, honour, honesty, An' things o' thet description. I du believe in prayer an' praise But, oh! I du in interest. I du believe in bein' this Or thet, ez it may happen I du believe thet holdin' slaves Comes nat❜ral tu a Presidunt, Let 'lone the rowdedow it saves To hev a wal-broke precedunt; Fer any office, small or gret, I couldn't ax with no face, Without I'd ben, thru dry an' wet, Th' unrizzest kind o' doughface. I du believe wutever trash 'll keep the people in blindness; In short, I firmly du believe Fer it's a thing thet I perceive This heth my faithful shepherd ben, In pasturs sweet heth led me, An' this 'll keep the people green To feed ez they hev fed me. -J. R. LowEll. WHAT MR ROBINSON THINKS. GUVENER B. is a sensible man; He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks ; He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can, An' into nobody's tater-patch pokes : But John P. Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. My! ain't it terrible? Wut shall we du? We can't never choose him, o' course-thet's flat; Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man : He's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf; Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. Gineral C. he goes in fer the war; He don't vally principle more 'n an old cud; Wut did God make us raytional creeturs fer, Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. We were gittin' on nicely up here to our village, Robinson he Sez this kind o' thing's an exploded idee. The side of our country must ollers be took, An' Presidunt Polk, you know, he is our country; Robinson he Sez this is his view o' the thing to a T. Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies; Is half on it ignorance, an' t' other half rum; But John P. Robinson he Sez it ain't no sech thing; an', of course, so must we. Parson Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats An' marched round in front of a drum an' a fife, To git some on 'em office, an' some on 'em votes ; But John P. Robinson he Sez they didn't know everythin' down in Judee. Wal, it's a marcy we've gut folks to tell us The rights an' the wrongs o' these matters, I vow— Robinson he Sez the world 'll go right, ef he hollers out Gee! -J. R. LOWELL. MR BIGLOW ON THE CIVIL WAR (1862). It's war we 're in, not politics; It's systems wrastlin' now, not parties; Where longest will an' truest heart is. Ther''s critters yit thet talk an' act No metter how they phrase an' tone it; A war on tick's ez dear 'z the deuce, But it wun't leave no lastin' traces, Ef green-backs ain't nut jest the cheese, I Fer instance-shinplaster idees Like them put out by Gov'nor Seymour. Last year, the Nation, at a word, When tremblin' Freedom cried to shield her, Waitin' an' longin' fer a wielder : A splendid flash!-an' how'd the grasp More men? More Man! It's there we fail When it's the head's in need o' strengthenin'? From roots o' hair to sole o' stockin', Ole Hick'ry wouldn't ha' stood see-saw In time o' need to load his gun with ; But this 'ere histin', creak, creak, creak, Fer one sharp purpose 'mongst the twitter- The peth an' sperit of a critter. In six months where 'll the People be, Ez though it wuz a cup o' tea Jest social el'ments in solution? This weighin' things doos wal enough When war cools down, an' comes to writin'; But while it's makin', the true stuff Is pison-mad, pig-headed fightin'. Democ'acy gives every man A right to be his own oppressor; I tell ye one thing we might larn From them smart critters, the SecedersEf bein' right's the fust consarn, The 'fore-the-fust 's cast-iron leaders. But 'pears to me I see some signs Thet we're a-goin' to use our senses: Jeff druv us into these hard lines, An' ough' to bear his half th' expenses; Slavery's Secession's heart an' will, South, North, East, West, where'er you find it, An' ef it drors in the War's mill, D'ye say them thunder-stones sha'n't grind it? D'ye s'pose, ef Jeff giv him a lick, Ole Hick'ry 'd tried his head to sof'n So's 'twouldn't hurt thet ebony stick Thet's made our side see stars so of'n? |