THE BRIDGE
How? Hey?
Not understan'? Why, wut's to hender, pray?
Must I go huntin' round to find a chap
To tell me when my face hez hed a slap?
THE MONIMENT
See here: the British they found out a flaw
In Cap'n Wilkes's readin' o' the law:
(They make all laws, you know, an' so, o' course,
It's nateral they should understan' their force:) 100
He'd oughto ha' took the vessel into port,
An' hed her sot on by a reg'lar court;
She was a mail-ship, an' a steamer, tu,
An' thet, they say, hez changed the pint o' view,
Coz the old practice, bein' meant for sails,
Ef tried upon a steamer, kind o' fails;
You may take out despatches, but you mus'n't
Take nary man—
THE BRIDGE
You mean to say, you dus'n't!
Changed pint o'view! No, no,—it's overboard
With law an' gospel, when their ox is gored! 110
I tell ye, England's law, on sea an' land,
Hez ollers ben, 'I've gut the heaviest hand.'
Take nary man? Fine preachin' from her lips!
Why, she hez taken hunderds from our ships,
An' would agin, an' swear she had a right to,
Ef we warn't strong enough to be perlite to.
Of all the sarse thet I can call to mind,
England doos make the most onpleasant kind:
It's you're the sinner ollers, she's the saint;
Wut's good's all English, all thet isn't ain't; 120
Wut profits her is ollers right an' just,
An' ef you don't read Scriptur so, you must;
She's praised herself ontil she fairly thinks
There ain't no light in Natur when she winks;
Hain't she the Ten Comman'ments in her pus?
Could the world stir 'thout she went, tu, ez nus?
She ain't like other mortals, thet's a fact:
She never stopped the habus-corpus act,
Nor specie payments, nor she never yet
Cut down the int'rest on her public debt; 130
She don't put down rebellions, lets 'em breed,
An' 's ollers willin' Ireland should secede;
She's all thet's honest, honnable, an' fair,
An' when the vartoos died they made her heir.
THE MONIMENT
Wal, wal, two wrongs don't never make a right;
Ef we're mistaken, own up, an' don't fight:
For gracious' sake, ha'n't we enough to du
'thout gettin' up a fight with England, tu?
She thinks we're rabble-rid—
THE BRIDGE
An' so we can't
Distinguish 'twixt You oughtn't an' You shan't! 140
She jedges by herself; she's no idear
How 't stiddies folks to give 'em their fair sheer:
The odds 'twixt her an' us is plain's a steeple,—
Her People's turned to Mob, our Mob's turned People.