And to fan the fierce flames of your war have combined,
And, therefore, most justly have they been consigned
With the meanest of devils who dared to rebel,
To be scorched in the flames of the nethermost hell.
Here are lying reporters and editors, speakers,
And the old Union-savers and compromise shriekers,
With blood-sucking leeches and shoddy contractors,
Beneath loyal masks, much the worst malefactors,
Who smile, while your soldiers they starve and they rob,
More guilty, by far, than Buchanan or Cobb.