But after a while the keeper grew old,
“And not so fit is he,”
Said Uncle Sam, “as the Douglas bold,
My forester for to be, be, be,
My forester for to be.”
So the Fowler bethought him to take his game
No longer to ancient J. B.,
And straight to the friends of the Douglas he came,
As they gathered in Charleston cit-y, tee, tee,