BISHOP PETE.
I knew that Jones;—used to faloot about Emanci-
pation—
It made your very toe-nails shoot to hear his
declamation.
And when he'd made all bosoms swell with
wonder at his vigour,
He'd get so drunk he couldn't tell a white man
from a nigger!
Was six foot high, thin, grim, and pale,—his
troubles can't be spoken—
Tarred, feathered, ridden on a rail, left beaten,
bruised, and broken;
But nothing made his tongue keep still, or stopt
his games improper,
Till, after many an awkward spill, he came the
final cropper.