An' would agin, an' swear she had a right to,

Ef we warn't strong enough to be perlite to.

Of all the sarse thet I can call to mind, England doos make the

pleasant kind:

most on

It's you 're the sinner ollers, she's the saint;

Wut's good's all English, all thet is n't ain'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 pus?

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 int'rest 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 heir.

wrong.

Why, sence she helped in lickin' Nap the Fust,

An' pricked a bubble jest agoin' to bust,

With Rooshy, Prooshy, Austry, all asistin',

Th' aint 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?)

'Thout no gret helpin' from the British

Isles,

An' could contrive to keep things pooty

stiff

Ef they withdrawed from business in a miff;

I ha'n't no patience with sech swellin' fellers ez

Think God can't forge 'thout them to blow the bellerses.

THE MONIMENT.

You 're ollers quick to set your back aridge,

But, neighbor, ef they prove their claim at law,

The best way is to settle, an' not jaw. An' don't le' 's mutter 'bout the awfle bricks

We'll give 'em, ef we ketch 'em in a fix: That 'ere's most frequently the kin' o' talk

Of critters can't be kicked to toe the chalk ;

Your "You'll see nex' time!" an' "Look out bumby!"

Most ollers ends in eatin' umble-pie. 'T wun't pay to scringe to England: will it pay

To fear that meaner bully, old "They'll say "?

Suppose they du say: words are dreffle bores,

But they ain't quite so bad ez seventy

fours.

Wut England wants is jest a wedge to fit

Where it'll help to widen out our split: She's found her. wedge, an' 't ain't for us to come

An' lend the beetle thet's to drive it home.

For growed-up folks like us 't would be a scandle,

When we git sarsed, to fly right off the handle.

England ain't all bad, coz she thinks us blind:

Ef she can't change her skin, she can her mind;

An' we shall see her change it doublequick,

Soon ez we 've proved thet we're a-goin' to lick.

She an' Columby's gut to be fas' friends;

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.

I b'lieve thet's so; but hearken in your ear,

I'm older 'n you, - Peace wun't keep house with Fear:

Ef you want peace, the thing you've gut to du

Is jes' to show you 're up to fightin', tu. I recollect how sailors' rights was won Yard locked in yard, hot gun-lip kissin' gun:

Why, afore thet, John Bull sot up thet he

Hed gut a kind o' mortgage on the sea; You'd thought he held by Gran'ther Adam's will,

An' ef you knuckle down, he'll think so still.

Better thet all our ships an' all their

An' all the people, startled from their doubt,

Come must'rin' to the flag with sech a shout,

I hoped to see things settled 'fore this fall,

The Rebbles licked, Jeff Davis hanged, an' all;

Then come Bull Run, an' sence then I've ben waitin'

Like boys in Jennooary thaw for skatin', Nothin' to du but watch my shadder's

trace

Folks thet worked thorough was the ones thet thriv,

But bad work follers ye ez long's ye live:

You can't git red on 't; jest ez sure ez sin,

It's ollers askin' to be done agin:

Ef we should part, it wouldn't be a week

'Fore your soft-soddered peace would spring aleak.

We've turned our cuffs up, but, to put her thru,

We must git mad an' off with jackets,

tu;

'T wun't du to think that killin' ain't perlite,

You've gut to be in airnest, ef you fight;

Why, two-thirds o' the Rebbles 'ould cut dirt,

Ef they once thought thet Guv'ment meant to hurt;

An' I du wish our Gin'rals hed in mind The folks in front more than the folks behind;

You wun't do much ontil you think it's God,

An' not constitoounts, thet holds the rod:

We want some more o' Gideon's sword, I jedge,

For proclamations ha'n't no gret of edge;

There's nothin' for a cancer but the knife,

Onless you set by 't more than by your life.

I've seen hard times; I see a war begun

Thet folks thet love their bellies never'd

Why, law an' order, honor, civil right, Ef they ain't wuth it, wut is wuth a fight?

I'm older 'n you: the plough, the axe, the mill,

All kin's o' labor an' all kin's o' skill, Would be a rabbit in a wile-cat's claw, Ef't warn't for thet slow critter, 'stablished law;

Onsettle thet, an' all the world goes whiz,

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!

Young folks are smart, but all ain't good thet 's new;

I guess the gran'thers they knowed sunthin', tu.

THE MONIMENT.

Amen to thet! build sure in the beginnin',

IT don't seem hardly right, John, When both my hands was full, To stump me to a fight, John, Your cousin, tu, John Bull!

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.,

Thet 's fit for you an' me!"

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,
"By fits an' starts, in Yankee hearts,
Though 't may surprise J. B.
More 'n it would you an' me."
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
I on'y guess," sez he,
"Thet ef Vattel on his toes fell,

guess,

'T would kind o' rile J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"

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 than 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!"

We own the ocean, tu, John:
You mus'n' take it hard,
Ef we can't think with you, John,
It's jest your own back-yard.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I
guess,
Ef thet 's his claim," sez he,
"The fencin'-stuff'll cost enough
To bust up friend J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"

Why talk so dreffle big, John,
Of honor when it meant
You did n't care a fig, John,
But jest for ten per cent?
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess
He's like the rest,' sez he:
"When all is done, it's number one
Thet's nearest to J. B.,

Ez wal ez you an' me!"

We give the critters back, John,
Cos Abram thought 't was right;
It warn't your bullyin' clack, John,
Provokin' us to fight.

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess We've a hard row,' sez he, "To hoe jest now; but thet somehow, May happen to J. B.,

Ez wal ez you an' me !"