THE UNIVERSAL COTTON GIN.
He journeyed all creation through,
A peddler's wagon, trotting in;
A haggard man, of sallow hue,
Upon his nose the goggles blue,
And in his cart a model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.
His seedy garb was sad to view—
Hard seemed the strait he'd gotten in;
He plainly couldn't boast a sou,
And meanly fared on water-gru-
el, or had swallowed whole a U-
niversal nigger-cotton gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.
To all he met—Turk, Christian, Jew—
He meekly said, 'I'm not in tin;
In fact I'm in a serious stew,
And therefore offer unto you,
At half its worth, my model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.
'As sure as four is two and two,
It rules the world we're plotting in;
It made and ruined Yankee Doo-
dle, stuck to him like Cooper's glue,
And so to you would stick this U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.'
Now Johnny Bull the peddler knew,
And thus replied with not a grin:
'Hi loves your 'gin' like London brew-
ed ale, but loathes the hinstitu-
tion vitch propels your model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.
'Hi knows such coves as you a few,
And, zur, just now, hi'm not in tin;
Hi tells you vot, great Yankee Doo-
dle might hincline to put me through
Hif hi should buy your model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.'
Then spake smooth Monsieur Parlez-vous,
Whose gilded throne was got in sin,—
(As was he too, if tales are true):
'I does not vant your modal U-'
(He sounds a V for W)
'niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.
A negar in de fence I view—
Your grand machine he's rotting in;
I smells him now, he stinketh! w-h-e-w—
Give me a good tobacco chew,
And you may keeps your modal U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.'
The peddler then sloped quickly to
The land he was begotten in;
With woeful visage, feelings blue,
He sadly questioned what to do,
When none would buy his model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.
From out his pocket then he drew
A rag that blood was clotting in;
It had a field of heavenly blue,
Was flecked with stars—the very few
That glimmered on his model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.
He gazed long on its tarnished hue,
And mourned the fix he'd gotten in;
Then filled his eyes with contrite dew,
As in its folds his nose he blew,
And thus addressed his model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.
'Thou crownless king, thy days are few;
The world thou art forgotten in;
Ere thou dost die, thy life review,
Repent thy crimes, thy wrongs undo,
Give freedom to the dusky crew
Whose blood now stains the model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin!'