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You may take out despatches, but you
mus' n't Take nary man —
An' so we can't Distinguish 'twixt You ought n't an? You
sha'n't! She jedges by herself ; she's no idear How 't stiddies folks to give 'em their fair
sheer : The odds 'twixt her an' us is plain 's a
steeple, Her People's turned to Mob, our Mob's
You mean to say, you dus' n't! Changed pint o' view! No, no, - it's
overboard With law an' gospel, when their ox is
gored! I tell ye, England's law, on sea an' land, Hez ollers ben, “ I've gut the heaviest hand.” Take nary man? Fine preachin' from her
lips ! Why, she hez taken hunderds from our
ships, An' would agin, an'swear she had a right to, Ef we warn't strong enough to be per
lite to. Of all the sarse thet I can call to mind, England doos make the most onpleasant
kind : It 's you 're the sinner ollers, she's the
saint; Wut's good 's all English, all thet is n't Wut profits her is ollers right an' just, An' ef you don't read Scriptur so, you
must; She's praised herself ontil she fairly thinks There ain't no light in Natur when she
winks ; Hain't she the Ten Comman'ments in her
She's riled jes' now
THE BRIDGE Plain proof her cause ain't strong, The one thet fust gits mad ’s ’most ollers
wrong. Why, sence she helped in lickin' Nap the
Fust, An' pricked a bubble jest agoin' to bust, With Rooshy, Prooshy, Austry, all assist
in', Th' ain't nut a face but wut she's shook her
fist in, Ez though she done it all, an' ten times
more, An' nothin' never hed gut done afore, Nor never could agin, 'thout she wuz spliced On to one eend an' gin th' old airth a hoist. She is some punkins, thet I wun't deny, (For ain't she some related to you ’n’I ?) But there's a few small intrists here be
low Outside the counter o' John Bull an' Co, An' though they can't conceit how 't should
Could the world stir 'thout she went, tu,
ez nus ? She ain't like other mortals, thet 's a fact : She never stopped the habus-corpus act, Nor specie payments, nor she never yet Cut down the intrest on her public debt ; She don't put down rebellions, lets 'em
breed, An''s ollers willin' Ireland should secede ; She 's all thet 's honest, honnable, an' fair, An' when the vartoos died they made her
I guess the Lord druv down Creation's
spiles 'thout no gret helpin' from the British Isles, An' could contrive to keep things pooty
stiff Ef they withdrawed from business in a I ha'n't no patience with sech swellin' fel
Think God can't forge 'thout them to blow
THE MONIMENT Wal, wal, two wrongs don't never make a
right; Ef we're mistaken, own up, an' don't
fight : For gracious' sake, ha'n't we enough to du 'thout gettin' up a fight with England, tu ? She thinks we 're rabble-rid
THE MONIMENT You're ollers quick to set your back aridge, Though 't suits a tom-cat more 'n a sober
Don't you git het : they thought the thing Soon ez we've proved thet we're a-goin' to was planned ;
lick. They 'll cool off when they come to under- She an' Columby 's gut to be fas' friends: stand.
For the world prospers by their privit ends: 'T would put the clock back all o' fifty years
Ef they should fall together by the ears. Ef thet 's wut you expect, you 'll hev to wait ; Folks never understand the folks they hate: She'll fin' some other grievance jest ez good, I 'gree to thet; she 's nigh us to wut 'fore the month 's out, to git misunderstood.
France is ; England cool off ! She 'lī do it, ef she sees But then she'll hev to make the fust adShe's run her head into a swarm o' bees.
vances ; I ain't so prejudiced ez wut you spose : We've gut pride, tu, an' gut it by good I hev thought England was the best thet rights, goes ;
An' ketch me stoopin' to pick up the mites Remember (no, you can't), when I was O condescension she 'll be lettin' fall reared,
When she finds out we ain't dead arter all ! God save the King was all the tune you I tell ye wut, it takes more 'n one good week heerd :
Afore my nose forgits it's hed a tweak. But it's enough to turn Wachuset roun' This stumpin'fellers when you think they ’re down.
She 'll come out right bumby, thet I'll
engage, THE MONIMENT
Soon ez she
gits to seein' we're of age ; But, neighbor, ef they prove their claim at This talkin' down o'hers ain't wuth a fuss ; law,
It's nat'ral ez nut likin' 't is to us; The best way is to settle, an' not jaw. Ef we ’re agoin' to prove we be growed-up, An'don't le's mutter 'bout the awfle bricks 'T wun't be by barkin' like a tarrier pup, We 'll give 'em, ef we ketch 'em in a fix : But turnin' to an' makin' things ez good That 'ere 's most frequently the kin' o' talk Ez wut we're ollers braggin' that we could; Of critters can't be kicked to toe the chalk; We're boun' to be good friends, an' so Your “You ll see nex time !" an' “ Look
we'd oughto, out bumby!”
In spite of all the fools both sides the water. 'Most ollers ends in eatin' umble-pie. 'T wun't pay to scringe to England : will it pay
I b’lieve thet's so ; but hearken in your To fear thet meaner bully, old “They 'll
I'm older 'n you,- Peace wun't keep house Suppose they du say: words are dreffle
with Fear : bores,
Ef you want peace, the thing you've gut to But they ain't quite so bad ez seventy-fours.
du Wut England wants is jest a wedge to fit Is jes' to show you 're up to fightin', tu. Where it'll help to widen out our split : I recollect how sailors' rights was won, She's found her wedge, an''t ain't for us to Yard locked in yard, hot gun-lip kissin'
gun : An'lend the beetle thet's to drive it home. Why, afore thet, John Bull sot up thet he For growed-up folks like us 't would be a Hed gut a kind o' mortgage on the sea; scandle,
You 'd thought he held by Gran'ther When we git sarsed, to fly right off the Adam's will, handle.
An'ef you knuckle down, he'll think so still. England ain't all bad, coz she thinks us Better thet all our ships an' all their crews blind :
Should sink to rot in ocean's dreamless ooze, Ef she can't change her skin, she can her Each torn flag wavin' chellenge ez it went, mind ;
An' each dumb gun a brave man's moniAn' we shall see her change it double-quick,
Than seek sech peace ez only cowards You 've gut to be in airnest, ef you fight;
Why, two thirds o' the Rebbles 'ould cut Give me the peace of dead men or of brave! dirt,
Ef they once thought thet Guv'ment meant
to hurt; I say, ole boy, it ain't the Glorious Fourth: An' I du wish our Gin'rals hed in mind You'd oughto larned 'fore this wut talk wuz The folks in front more than the folks beworth.
hind; It ain't our nose thet gits put out o' jint; You wun't do much ontil you think it 's God, It's England thet gives up her dearest pint. An' not constitoounts, thet holds the rod; We've gut, I tell ye now, enough to du We want some more o' Gideon's sword, I In our own fem'ly fight, afore we 're thru. jedge, I hoped, las' spring, jest arter Sumter's For proclamations ha'n't no gret of edge; shame,
There 's nothin' for a cancer but the knife, When every flag-staff flapped its tethered Onless you set by 't more than by your life. flame,
I've seen hard times; I see a war begun An' all the people, startled from their
Thet folks thet love their bellies never 'd doubt,
won; Come must'rin' to the flag with sech a Pharo's lean kine hung on for seven long shout,
year; I hoped to see things settled 'fore this fall, But when 't was done, we did n't count it The Rebbles licked, Jeff Davis hanged, an' dear; all;
Why, law an' order, honor, civil right, Then come Bull Run, an’sence then I've Ef they ain't wuth it, wut is wuth a fight? ben waitin'
I'm older 'n you: the plough, the axe, the Like boys in Jennooary thaw for skatin',
mill, Nothin' to du but watch my shadder's trace All kin's o' labor an' all kin's o' skill, Swing, like a ship at anchor, roun' my base, Would be a rabbit in a wile-cat's claw, With daylight's flood an’ ebb: it's gittin' Ef't warn’t for thet slow critter, 'stablished
slow, An' I'most think we 'd better let 'em go. Onsettle thet, an' all the world goes whiz, I tell ye wut, this war's a-goin' to cost A screw's gut loose in everythin' there is:
Good buttresses once settled, don't you fret
An' stir 'em; take a bridge's word for thet! An' I tell you it wun't be money lost; Young folks are smart, but all ain't good Taxes milks dry, but, neighbor, you 'll allow
thet 's new; Thet havin' things onsettled kills the cow: I guess the gran’thers they knowed sunthin', We've gut to fix this thing for good an' all;
tu. It's no use buildin' wut 's a-goin' to fall. I'm older 'n you, an' I've seen things an' men,
Amen to thet! build sure in the beginnin': An'
my experunce, — tell ye wut it 's ben: An' then don't never tech the underpinnin': Folks thet worked thorough was the ones Th' older a guv'ment is, the better 't suits; thet thriv,
New ones hunt folks's corns out like new But bad work follers ye ez long 's ye live;
boots: You can't git red on 't; jest ez sure ez sin, Change jes' for change, is like them big It 's ollers askin' to be done agin:
hotels Ef we should part, it would n't be a week Where they shift plates, an' let ye live on 'Fore your soft-soddered peace would spring
smells. aleak. We've turned our cuffs up, but, to put her thru,
Wal, don't give up afore the ship goes We must git mad an' off with jackets, tu ;
down: 'T wun't du to think thet killin' ain't per- It 's a stiff gale, but Providence wun't lite,
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess
We know it now," sez he, “ The lion's paw is all the law,
Accordin' to J. B.,
You wonder why we're hot, John ?
Your mark wuz on the guns, The neutral guns, thet shot, John, Our brothers an' our sons :
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess
There's human blood,” sez he,
Though 't may surprise J. B.
An' God wun't leave us yit to sink or swim,
phesy!” O strange New World, thet yit wast never
young, Whose youth from thee by gripin' need was
wrung, Brown foundlin' o' the woods, whose baby
bed Was prowled roun' by the Injun's cracklin'
tread, An’ who grew'st strong thru shifts an’ wants
an' pains, Nussed by stern men with empires in their
brains, Who saw in vision their young Ishmel strain With each hard hand a vassal ocean's mane, Thou, skilled by Freedom an' by gret events To pitch new States ez Old-World men
pitch tents, Thou, taught by Fate to know Jehovah's
plan Thet man's devices can't unmake a man, An' whose free latch - string never was
drawed in Against the poorest child of Adam's kin, The grave 's not dug where traitor hands
shall lay In fearful haste thy murdered corse away!
Ef I turned mad dogs loose, John,
On your front-parlor stairs, Would it jest meet your views, John, To wait an' sue their heirs ? Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I
'Twould kind o'rile J. B.,
Jest here some dogs begun to bark, So thet I lost old Concord's last remark: I listened long, but all I seemed to hear Was dead leaves gossipin' on some birch
trees near; But ez they hed n't no gret things to say, An' sed 'em often, I come right away, An', walkin' home'ards, jest to pass the
time, I put some thoughts thet bothered me in
rhyme; I hain't hed time to fairly try 'em on, But here they be — it's
Who made the law thet hurts, John,
Heads I win, — ditto tails ? “J. B.” was on his shirts, John, Onless my memory fails.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess
(I'm good at thet),” sez he, “ Thet sauce for goose ain't jest the juice
For ganders with J. B.,
No more 'n with you or me!” When your rights was our wrongs, John,
You did n't stop for fuss, Britanny's trident prongs, John, Was good 'nough law for us.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess,
Though physic's good," sez he, “ It does n't foller thet he can swaller
Prescriptions signed J. B.,
Put up by you an' me!”
You mus' n' take it hard,
Ef thet 's his claim," sez he,
To bust up friend J. B.,
JONATHAN TO JOHN It don't seem hardly right, John,
When both my hands was full, To stump me to a fight, John,
Your cousin, tu, John Bulll
Why talk so dreffle big, John,
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess, Of honor when it meant
John preaches wal,” sez he ; You did n't care a fig, John,
“ But, sermon thru, an' come to du, But jest for ten per cent !
Why, there's the old J. B.
A-crowdin' you an' me!”
Shall it be love, or hate, John ?
It's you thet 's to decide ;
Ain't your bonds held by Fate, John
Like all the world's beside ? We give the critters back, John,
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “ I guess Cos Abram thought 't was right ;
Wise men forgive," sez he, It warn't your bullyin' clack, John,
“ But not forgit ; an' some time yit Provokin' us to fight.
Thet truth may strike J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!”
God means to make this land, John, May happen to J. B.,
Clear tbru, from sea to sea, Ez wal ez you an' me !”
Believe an' understand, John,
The wuth o' bein' free. We ain't so weak an' poor, John,
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess, With twenty million people,
God's price is high," sez he ; An' close to every door, John,
“But nothin' else than wut He sells A school-house an' a steeple.
Wears long, an' thet J. B.
May larn, like you an' me !"
BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN, ESQ., TO Our folks believe in Law, John ;
MR. HOSEA BIGLOW
With the following Letter from the RevThe anvil an' the plough.
EREND HOMER WILBUR, A. M.
TO THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC
MONTHLY ** There'd be one shindy from here to Indy ;
JAALAM, 7th Feb., 1862. An' thet don't suit J. B.
RESPECTED FRIENDS, — If I know my(When 't ain't 'twixt you an' me !)” self, — and surely a man can hardly be
supposed to have overpassed the limit of We know we've got a cause, John, fourscore years without attaining to some Thet's honest, just, an' true ;
proficiency in that most useful branch of We thought 't would win applause, John, learning (e cælo descendit, says the pagan Ef nowheres else, from you.
poet), — I have no great smack of that Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess
weakness which would press upon the pubHis love of right,” sez he,
lick attention any matter pertaining to my * Hangs by a rotten
fibre o' cotton : private affairs. But since the following There's natur' in J. B.,
letter of Mr. Sawin contains not only a Ez wal'z in you an' me!”
direct allusion to myself, but that in con
nection with a topick of interest to all The South says, “Poor folks down !” John, those engaged in the publick ministrations An' “All men up!” say we,
of the sanctuary, I may be pardoned for White, yaller, black, an' brown, John : touching briefly thereupon. Mr. Sawin Now which is your idee?
a stated attendant upon my