All the time good old Uncle Sam
Sat by his fireside near,
Smokin' of his kinnikinnick,
And drinkin' lager-beer.
He laughed and quaffed, and quaffed and laughed,
Nor thought it worth his while,
Until the storm in fury burst
On Sumter's sea-girt isle.
O'er the waves to the smoking fort,
When came the dewy dawn,
To see the flag he looked—and lo!
Eleven stars were gone!
"My pretty, pretty stars," he cried,
And down did roll a tear.
"I've got your stars, old Fogy Sam,
Ha, ha!" laughed Cavalier.
"I've got your stars in my watch-fob;
Come take them if you dare!"
And Uncle Sam he turned away,
Too full of wrath to swear.
"Let thunder all the drums!" he cried,
While swelled his soul, like Mars;
"A million Northern boys I'll get
To bring me home my stars."<7p>
And on his mare, stout Betsey Jane,
To Northside town he flew;
The dogs they barked, the bells did ring,
And countless bugles blew.
"My stolen stars!" cried Uncle Sam,
"My stolen stars!" cried he,
"A million soldiers I must have
To bring them back to me."
"Dry up your tears, good Uncle Sam;
Dry up!" said Puritan,
"We'll bring you home your stolen stars,
Or perish every man!"
And at the words a million rose,
All ready for the fray;
And columns formed, like rivers deep,
And Southward marched away.
And still old Uncle Samuel
Sits by his fireside near,
Smokin' of his kinnikinnick
And drinkin' lager-beer;
While there's a tremble in the earth,
A gleaming of the sky,
And the rivers stop to listen
As the million marches by.[Back to Contents]
DEBATE
between
Rev. Ebenezer Slabsides and Honorable Felix Garrotte,
delivered before
General Rosecrans and the Society of the Toki.