To hit ’em lame!”
Said Mister Zion Jersey Boggs.
The editor looked back again,
And saw him better on his wink.
“It is the crisis of our fate—
Say, Boggs, what is your style of drink?
Step to the bar of Congress Hall;—
We’ll try your poultry on, by Gogs!
An’ let ’em fly
Tarnation high!”