BISHOP PETE.
Ah, things down here, as you observe, are getting
more pernicious,
And Brigham's losing all his nerve, altho' the
fix is vicious.
Jest as we've rear'd a prosperous place and fill'd
our holy quivers,
The Yankee comes with dern'd long face to give
us all the shivers!
And on his jaws a wicked grin prognosticates
disaster,
And, jest as sure as sin is sin, he means to be
the master.
"Pack up your traps," I hear him cry, "for here
there's no remainin',"
And winks with his malicious eye, and progues
us out of Canaan.