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agin aint arter become bein believe Biglow Calhoun candidate Christ Christian clear Cloth consider desire discourse editor England father feller fire folks give guess haint hand head heart Henry History hope human illustrations it's Jaalam jest John keep kind King land leave less letters live look matter mean mind natural never North nothin object ollers once persons Poems present question reader rest round safe Sawin sech seems side sometimes sort sound stand Stories tell there's thet thet's thing thought thru took volume vote Ware wonder young
Страница 22 - There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'. The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser.
Страница 49 - So's to lug new slave-states in To abuse ye, an' to scorn ye, An' to plunder ye like sin. Aint it cute to see a Yankee Take sech everlastin' pains, All to git the Devil's thankee, Helpin
Страница 75 - 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. Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. My! aint it terrible? Wut shall we du? We can't never choose him, o...
Страница 48 - Ez fer war, I call it murder, — There you hev it plain an' flat; I don't want to go no furder Than my Testyment fer that; God hez sed so plump an' fairly, It's ez long ez it is broad, An' you've gut to git up airly Ef you want to take in God.
Страница 93 - I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for not without dust and heat.
Страница 48 - Hain't they cut a thunderin' swarth (Helped by Yankee renegaders), Thru the vartu o' the North ! We begin to think it 's nater To take sarse an' not be riled ; — Who 'd expect to see a tater All on eend at bein' biled ? Ez fer war, I call it murder, — There you hev it plain an...
Страница 23 - A-raspin' on the scraper, — All ways to once her feelins flew Like sparks in burnt-up paper. He kin' o' 1'itered on the mat Some doubtfle o' the sekle, His heart kep' goin' pity-pat, But hern went pity Zekle.
Страница 77 - Polk, you know, he is our country, An' the angel thet writes all our sins in a book Puts the debit to him, an' to us the per contry\ An' John P. Robinson he Sez this is his view o
Страница 129 - V ball Air good-will's strongest magnets, Thet peace, to make it stick at all, Must be druv in with bagnets. In short, I firmly du believe In Humbug generally, Fer it's a thing thet I perceive To hev a solid vally ; 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.