’Tis all my eye, said Louis, both
Your testament and psalms;
You use the dumbbells regular
To strengthen up your arms.
So take your poor relation off,
You pious-looking prig,
And open out Kit Denmark’s box,
And give him back Slesvig.
Come, come, says Mrs. Europe,
Let’s have no bother here,
Your trying now to breed a row
At least it does appear.
Now Johnny hearing from the bunk
What both of them did say,
He shouted out, Now stop it, Will,
Or else you’ll rue the day.
All right friend John, I’m much obliged,
You are my friend, I know,
And so my little cousin, sir,
I’m willing to withdraw.
But Louis frothed at mouth with rage,
Like one that was insane,
And said he’d make Bill promise him
He’d not offend again.
I’d promise no such thing, says Mark,
For that would hurt your pride,
Sing on and read your testament,
Dame Europe’s on your side.
If I’d to promise out at sort,
’Twould be against my mind;
So take it right or take it wrong,
I’ll promise naught at kind.
Then I shall take and wallop thee
Unless thou cuts thy stick,
And drive thee to thy fatherland
Before another week.
Come on, cried Sanctimonius,
And sending out his arm
He caught poor Louis on the nose,
Then sung another psalm.