[by James Russell Lowell]
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 guess,
I on'y guess,"
sez he,
"Thet ef Vattel on his
toes fell,
'T would kind o' rile J. B.,
- Ez wal ez 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!"
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!"
We ain't so weak an' poor,
John,
With twenty million people,
An' close to every door, John,
A school-house an' a steeple.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
It is a fact," sez he,
"The surest plan to make a
man
Is, Think him so, J. B.,
Ez much ez you or me!"
SOURCE: John M. Forbes, Editor,
An Old Scrap-book: With Additions, p.
595-7
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