If the Volunteers had them they’d make cannon balls.
And tell —— enemies to look out for squalls,
If a foe should come here to do us a wrong,
They’d get blow’d to old Nick with a charge of chignons.
The poor cows and horses will welcome the change,
And pigs with their bristles on freely will range,
No more county crops for the women in jails,
Nor donkeys lamenting the loss of their tails.
No more bags of sawdust to way down your heads,
Nor rags tied in bundles as big as a bed,