But, copperhead, why do you writhe,
And gnaw, in vain, the mower’s scythe?
You hum and haw, at every pause,
And prate of violated laws,
Of broken vows, “emancipation,”
And all the sufferings of the nation;
Thus Satan writhes, while preachers lash him,
And for his doings soundly thrash him;
While he, the injured innocent,
Indignant apes the holy saint!