“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,
You’re 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 aught like that,
’Twould be against my mind;
So take it right or take it wrong,
I’ll promise naught o’ t’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.
But Louis soon was on his pins,
And used his fists a bit,
But he was fairly out of breath,
And seldom ever hit.