HER SPECIALTY.
There’s a prejudice extensive ’gainst the Russian and his ways,
For the ruler or his people there is very little praise;
In the hurried march of progress they are badly out of date
(By the way, they’ve information on this subject just of late);
But with all their backward learning, yea, their sodden ignorance,
In one respect the Russians lead us all a merry dance
In a single branch of knowledge they can put us all to shame,
They can give us every face-card and then skin us at the game.
A high official undertakes a pleasant social drive
And it constitutes the last time he is ever seen alive;
In fact, the mere narration rather fills us with a dread,
For it is his last appearance, whether in the flesh or dead.
There’s a missile thrown, a loud report, and when the smoke is gone
There are not sufficient fragments left to pin a medal on;
There’s a gentle human drizzle, lasting frequently a day,
And they hold a tweedledeum o’er the dissipated spray.
To her style in execution as to neatness or dispatch,
There’s no other Christian nation that can hold a decent match.