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An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk
Ez though she wished him furder,
An' on her apples kep' to work,
Parin' away like murder.

"You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?" "Wal... no I come dasignin' "To see my Ma? She is sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morrer's i'nin'."

To say why gals acts so or so,
Or don't, 'ould be presumin';
Mebbe to mean yes an'
say no
Comes nateral to women.

He stood a spell on one foot fust,
Then stood a spell on t'other,
An' on which one he felt the wust
He couldn't ha' told ye nuther.

Says he, "I'd better call agin;"

Says she, "Think likely, Mister;" Thet last word pricked him like a pin, An'.... Wal, he up an' kist her.

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For she was jes' the quiet kind

Whose naturs never vary,

Like streams that keep a summer mind
Snowhid in Jenooary.

The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued
Too tight for all expressin',

Tell mother see how metters stood,
And gin 'em both her blessin'.

Then her red come back like the tide
Down to the Bay o' Fundy;

An' all I know is they was cried
In meetin' come nex' Sunday.

BIRDOFREDOM SAWIN.1

I.

THIS kind o' sogerin' aint a mite like our October trainin';

A chap could clear right out from there ef't only looked like

rainin';

An' th' Cunnles, tu, could kiver up their shappoes with bandan

ners,

An' send the insines skootin' to the bar-room with their banners
(Fear o' gittin' on 'em spotted), an' a feller could cry quarter
Ef he fired away his ramrod arter tu much rum an' water.
Recollect wut fun we hed, you'n' I an' Ezry Hollis,

Up there to Waltham plain last fall, along o' the Cornwallis?
This sort o' thing aint jest like thet,-I wish thet I wuz furder,-
Nimepunce a day fer killin' folks comes kind o' low fer murder,
(Wy I've worked out to slarterin' some fer Deacon Cephas Billins,
An' in the hardest times there wuz I ollers tetched ten shillins).
There's sutthin' gits into my throat thet makes it hard to swaller,
It comes so nateral to think about a hempen collar;
It's glory,-but, in spite o' all my tryin' to git callous,
I feel a kind o' in a cart, aridin' to the gallus.

But wen it comes to bein' killed,—I tell ye I felt streaked
The fust time 'tever I found out wy baggonets wuz peaked.
IIere's how it wuz: I started out to go to a fandango,
"Thet's furder 'an you can go."
The sentinul he ups an' sez,
"None o' your sarse, sez I; sez he, "Stan' back !"

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"Aint you

Sez I; "I'm up to all thet air, I guess I've ben to muster;
I know wy sentinuls air sot; you aint agoin' to eat us;
Caleb haint no monopoly to court the seenoreetas ;
My folks to hum air full ez good ez hisn be, by golly!"
An' so ez I wuz goin' by, not thinkin' wut would folly,
The everlastin' cus he stuck his one-pronged pitchfork in me,
An' made a hole right thru my close ez ef I wuz an in'my.

Wal, it beats all how big I felt hoorawin' in ole Funnel
Wen Mister Bolles he gin the sword to our Leftenant Cunnle,
(It's Mister Secondary Bolles, thet writ the prize peace essay;
Thet's why he didn't list himself along o' us, I dessay).
An' Rantoul, tu, talked pooty loud, but don't put his foot in it,
Coz human life's so sacred thet he's principled agin it,—
Though I myself can't rightly see it's any wus achokin' on 'em
Than puttin' bullets thru their lights, or with a bagnet pokin' on

'em.

2

How dreffle slick he reeled it off (like Blitz at our lyceum-
Ahaulin' ribbins from his chops so quick you skeercely see 'em)
About the Anglo-Saxon race (an' saxons would be handy
To du the buryin' down here upon the Rio Grandy),

1 The reader should understand B. Sawin to be a private in the United States Army, in the war against Mexico waged in 1847.

About our patriotic pas an' our star-spangled banner,
Our country's bird alookin' on an' singin' out hosanner;
An' how he (Mister B. himself) wuz happy fer Ameriky,-

I felt, ez sister Patience sez, a leetle mite histericky.

I felt, I swon, ez though it wuz a dreffle kind o' privilege

Atrampin' round thru Boston streets among the gutter's drivelage; I act'lly thought it wuz a treat to hear a little drummin',

An' it did bonyfidy seem millanyum wuz acomin'

Wen all on us got suits (darned like them wore in the state prison), An' every feller felt ez though all Mexico wuz hisn.

This 'ere's about the meanest place a skunk could wal diskiver
(Saltillo's Mexican, I b'lieve, fer wut we call Salt-river);
The sort o' trash a feller gits to eat doos beat all, nater,-
I'd give a year's pay fer a smell o' one good blue-nosed tater
The country here thet Mister Bolles declared to be so charmin'
Throughout is swarmin' with the most alarmin' kind o' varmin'.
He talked about delishis fruits, but then it wuz a wopper all,
The holl on't's mud an' prickly pears, with here an' there a chap-
paral.

You see a feller peekin' out, an', fust you know, a lariat

Is round your throat an' you a copse, 'fore you can say "Wut air ye at?"

You never see sech darned gret bugs (it may not be irrelevant

To say I've seen a scarabæus pilularius1 big ez a year-old elephant):
The rigiment come up one day in time to stop a red bug
From runnin' off with Cunnle Wright,-'t wuz jest a common
cimex lectularius.

One night I started up on eend, an' thought I wuz to hum agin;
I heern a horn; thinks I, "It's Sol the fisherman hez come agin,
His bellowses is sound enough."-Ez I'm a livin' creeter,

I felt a thing go thru my leg,--'twuz nothin' more 'n a skeeter! Then there's the yaller fever, tu, they call it here el vomito,(Come, thet wun't du, you landcrab there, I tell ye to le' go my toe!

My gracious! it's a scorpion thet's took a shine to play with't; I darsn't skeer the tarnal thing fer fear he'd run away with't).

Afore I come away from hum I hed a strong persuasion
Thet Mexicans worn't human beans,-an ourang outang nation,
A sort o' folks a chap could kill an' never dream on't arter,
No more'n a feller'd dream o' pigs thet he hed hed to slarter.
I'd an idee thet they were built arter the darkie fashion all,
An' kickin' colored folks about, you know's, a kind o' national.
But wen I jined I wornt so wise ez thet air queen o' Sheby,
Fer, come to look at 'em, they aint much diff'rent from wut we be;

1 it wuz "tumblebug" as he Writ it, but the parson put the Latten instid. i sed tother maid better meeter, but he said tha was eddykated peepl to Boston and tha wouldn't stan' it no how. idnow as tha wood and idnow as tha wood. Hosea Biglow.

An' here we air ascrougin' 'em out o' thir own dominions,
Ashelterin' 'em, ez Caleb sez, under our eagle's pinions,-
Wich means to take a feller up jest by the slack o' 's trowsis,
An' walk him Spanish clean right out o' all his homes an' houses.
Wal, it doos seem a curus way, but then hooraw fer Jackson!
It must be right, fer Caleb sez it's reg'lar Anglo-saxon.
The Mex'cans don't fight fair, they say; they piz'n all the water,
An' du amazin' lots o' things thet isn't wut they ough' to;
Bein' they haint no lead, they make their bullets out o' copper,
An' shoot the darned things at us, tu, wich Caleb sez aint proper.
He sez they'd ough' to stan' right up an' let us pop 'em fairly,
(Guess wen he ketches 'em at thet he'll hev to git up airly);
Thet our nation's bigger'n theirn, an' so its rights air bigger,
An' thet it's all to make 'em free thet we air pullin' trigger;
Thet Anglo Saxondom's idee's abreakin' 'em to pieces,
An' thet idee's thet every man doos jest wut he damn pleases.
Ef I don't make his meanin' clear, perhaps in some respex I can,-
I know thet "every man" don't mean a nigger or a Mexican.
An' there's another thing I know; an' thet is, ef these creeturs,
Thet stick an Anglosaxon mask onto State-prison feeturs,
Should come to Jaalam Centre fer to argify an' spout on't,
The gals 'ould count the silver spoons the minnit they cleared out

on't.

This goin' ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable feetur;
An', ef it worn't fer wakin' snakes, I'd home agin short meter.
Oh wouldn't I be off, quick time, ef't worn't thet I wuz sartin
They'd let the daylight into me to pay me fer desartin !

I don't approve o' tellin' tales, but jest to you I may state
Our ossifers aint wut they wuz afore they left the Bay-state;
Then it wuz "Mister Sawin, sir, you're middlin' well now, be ye?
Step up an' take a nipper, sir; I'm dreffle glad to see ye;'
But now it's "Ware's my eppylet? here, Sawin, step an' fetch it!
An' mind your eye, be thund'rin' spry, or, damn ye, you shall ketch
it!"

Wal, ez the Doctor sez, some pork will bile so, but by mighty,
Ef I hed some on 'em to hum, I'd give 'em linkum vity;
I'd play the rogue's march on their hides an' other music follerin'-
But I must close my letter here, fer one on 'em's ahollerin';
These Anglosaxon ossifers,-wal, taint no use ajawin',
I'm safe enlisted fer the war.

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I SPOSE you wonder ware I be; I can't tell, fer the soul o' me,
Exacly ware I be myself,-meanin' by thet the holl o' me.
Wen I left hum, I hed two legs, an' they worn't bad ones neither,
(The scaliest trick they ever played wuz bringin' on me hither):

Now one on 'em's I dunno ware-they thought I wuz adyin',
An' sawed it off because they said 'twuz kin' o' mortifyin';
I'm willin' to believe it wuz, an' yit I don't see, nuther,
Wy one should take to feelin' cheap a minnit sooner 'n t'other,
Sence both wuz equilly to blame; but things is ez they be ;
It took on so they took it off, an' thet's enough fer me.

There's one good thing, though, to be said about my wooden new

one,

The liquor can't git into it ez't used to in the true one;

So it saves drink; an' then, besides, a feller couldn't beg
A gretter blessin' then to hev one ollers sober peg.
It's true a chap's in want o' two fer follerin' a drum,
But all the march I'm up to now is jest to Kingdom Come.

I've lost one eye, but thet's a loss it's easy to supply
Out o' the glory that I've gut, fer thet is all my eye;
An' one is big enough, I guess, by diligently usin' it,
To see all I shall ever git by way o' pay fer losin' it.

Officers, I notice, who git paid fer all our thumps an' kickins,
Du wal by keepin' single eyes arter the fattest pickins;
So, ez the eye's put fairly out, I'll larn to go without it,
An' not allow myself to be no gret put out about it.

Now, le' me see, thet isn't all; I used, 'fore leavin' Jaalam,
To count things on my finger-eends, but sutthin' seems to ail 'em :
Ware's my left hand? Oh, darn it, yes, I recollect wut's come on't;
I haint no left arm but my right, an' thet's gut jest a thumb on't;
It aint so hendy ez it wuz to cal'late a sum on't.

I've hed some ribs broke,-six (I b'lieve),—I haint kep' no account on 'em ;

Wen pensions git to be the talk, I'll settle the amount on 'em.
An' now I'm speakin' about ribs, it kin' o' brings to mind
One thet I couldn't never break,-the one I lef' behind;
Ef you should see her, jest clear out the spout o' your invention,
An' pour the longest sweetnin' in about an annooal pension,
An' kin' o' hint (in case, you know, the critter should refuse to be
Consoled) I aint so 'xpensive now to keep ez wut I used to be;
There's one arm less, ditto one eye, an' then the leg thet's wooden
Can be took off an' sot away whenever ther's a puddin'.

I spose you think I'm comin' back ez opperlunt ez thunder,
With shiploads o' gold images an' varus sorts o' plunder.
Wal, 'fore I vullinteered, I thought this country wuz a sort o'
Canaan, a regl'ar Promised Land flowin' with rum an' water,
Ware propaty growed up like time, without no cultivation,
An' gold wuz dug ez taters be among our Yankee nation,
Ware nateral advantages were pufficly amazin',

Ware every rock there wuz about with precious stuns wuz blazin',
Ware mill-sites filled the country up ez thick ez you could cram

'em,

An' desput rivers run about abeggin' folks to dam 'em ;

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