Who made the law thet hurts, John,
Heads I win,—ditto, tails?
“J. B.” was on his shirts, John,
Onless my memory fails.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess,
(I’m good at thet,)” sez he,
“Thet sauce for goose ain’t jest the juice
For ganders with J. B.,
No more than you or me!”
When your rights was our wrongs, John,