But Louis soon was on his pins,
And used his fists a bit,
But he was fairly out of breath,
And seldom ever hit.
And at the end of round the first,
He got it fearful hot,
This was his baptism of fire
If we mistake it not.
So Willy sent a letter home,
To his mother, old Augusta,
Telling her he’d thrashed poor Lue,
And given him such a duster.
What wonderful events, says he,
Has heaven brought about,
I fight the greatest pugilist
That ever was brought out.
And if by divine Providence
I get safe through this row,
Then I will sing “My God the spring
From whom all blessings flow.”
Meanwhile the other Monitors,
Were standing looking on,
But none of them durst speak a word,
But all stared straight at John.
Ought not I to interfere,
Says Johnny to the rest,
But he was told by every one
Neutrality was the best.
Neutral, growl’d John, I hate the name,
’Tis poison to my ear,
It’s another word for cowardice,
And makes me fit to swear.
At any rate I can do this,
My mind I will not mask,
I’ll give poor Lue a little drop
Out of my brandy flask.
And give it up, poor Lue, my lad,
You might as well give in,
You know that I have got no power,
Besides you did begin.