Guvener B. is a sensible man;
He stays to his home an’ looks arter his folks;
He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can,
An’ into nobody’s tater-patch pokes;
But John P.
Robinson he
Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B.
My ain’t it terrible? Wut shall we du?
We can’t never choose him, o’ course,—thet’s flat;
Guess we shall hev to come round (don’t you?)