Their mission-work with Afrikins hez put 'em up, thet 's sartin,

To all the mos' across-lot ways o' preachin' an' convartin';

I'll bet my hat th' ain't nary priest, nor all on 'em together,

Thet cairs conviction to the min' like Reveren' Taranfeather;

Why, he sot up with me one night, an' labored to sech purpose,

Thet (ez an owl by daylight 'mongst a flock o' teazin' chirpers

Sees clearer 'n mud the wickedness o' eatin' little

birds)

I see my error an' agreed to shen it arterwurds; An' I should say, (to jedge our folks by facs in my possession,)

Thet three's Unannermous where one's a 'Riginal Secession;

So it's a thing you fellers North may safely bet your chink on,

Thet we 're all water-proofed agin th' usurpin' reign o' Lincoln.

Jeff's some. He's gut another plan thet hez pertic'lar merits,

In givin' things a cherfle look an' stiffnin' loosehung sperits;

For while your million papers, wut with lyin' an'

discussin',

Keep folks's tempers all on eend a-fumin' an’ a-fussin',

A-wondrin' this an' guessin' thet, an' dreadin', every night,

The breechin' o' the Univarse 'll break afore it's

light,

Our papers don't purtend to print on'y wut Guvment choose,

An' thet insures us all to git the very best o'

noose:

Jeff hez it of all sorts an' kines, an' sarves it out ez wanted,

So 's 't every man gits wut he likes an' nobody ain't scanted;

Sometimes it's vict'ries, (they're 'bout all ther' is that 's cheap down here,)

Sometimes it's France an' England on the jump to interfere.

Fact is, the less the people know o' wut ther' is

a-doin',

The hendier 't is for Guv'ment, sence it henders

trouble brewin';

An' noose is like a shinplaster,

you believe it,

- it's good, ef

Or, wut's all same, the other man thet's goin' to

Ef

receive it:

you 've a son in th' army, wy, it's comfortin' to hear

He'll hev no gretter resk to run than seein' th' in'my's rear,

Coz, ef an F. F. looks at 'em, they ollers break

an' run,

Or wilt right down ez debtors will thet stumble on a dun,

(An' this, ef an'thin', proves the wuth o' proper fem❜ly pride,

Fer sech mean shucks ez creditors are all on Lincoln's side);

Ef I hev scrip thet wun't go off no more 'n a Belgin rifle,

An' read thet it's at par on 'Change, it makes me feel deli'fle;

It's cheerin', tu, where every man mus' fortify his

bed,

To hear thet Freedom's the one thing our darkies mos❜ly dread,

An' thet experunce, time 'n' agin, to Dixie's Land

hez shown

Ther''s nothin' like a powder-cask f'r a stiddy corner-stone;

Ain't it ez good ez nuts, when salt is sellin' by the ounce

For its own weight in Treash'ry-bons, (ef bought in small amounts,)

When even whiskey 's gittin' skurce an' sugar can't be found,

To know thet all the ellerments o' luxury abound? An' don't it glorify sal'-pork, to come to under

stand

It's wut the Richmon' editors call fatness o' the

land!

Nex' thing to knowin' you're well off is nut to know when y' ain't;

An' ef Jeff says all's goin' wal, who'll ventur' t' say it ain't?

This cairn the Constitooshun roun' ez Jeff doos in his hat

Is hendier a dreffle sight, an' comes more kin' o'

pat.

I tell ye wut, my jedgment is you're pooty sure

to fail,

Ez long 'z the head keeps turnin' back for counsel to the tail:

Th' advantiges of our consarn for bein' prompt air gret,

While, 'long o' Congress, you can't strike, 'f you git an iron het;

They bother roun' with argooin', an var'ous sorts o' foolin',

To make sure ef it's leg❜lly het, an' all the while it's coolin',

So's 't when you come to strike, it ain't no gret to wish ye j'y on,

An' hurts the hammer 'z much or more ez wut it doos the iron,

Jeff don't allow no jawin'-sprees for three months at a stretch,

Knowin' the ears long speeches suits air mostly made to metch;

He jes' ropes in your tonguey chaps an' reg'lar

ten-inch bores

An' lets 'em play at Congress, ef they 'll du it with closed doors;

So they ain't no more bothersome than ef we'd took an' sunk 'em,

An' yit enj'y th' exclusive right to one another's Buncombe

'thout doin' nobody no hurt, an' 'thout its costin'

nothin',

Their pay bein' jes' Confedrit funds, they findin' keep an' clothin';

They taste the sweets o' public life, an' plan their little jobs,

An' suck the Treash'ry, (no gret harm, for it 's ez dry ez cobs,)

An' go thru all the motions jest ez safe ez in a prison,

An' hev their business to themselves, while Buregard hez hisn:

Ez long 'z he gives the Hessians fits, committees can't make bother

'bout whether 't 's done the legle way or whether 't's done the t'other.

An' I tell you you've gut to larn thet War ain't one long teeter

Betwixt I wan' to an' 'T wun't du, debatin' like a skeetur

Afore he lights, all is, to give the other side a

millin',

An' arter thet's done, th' ain't no resk but wut the lor 'll be willin';