Provokin’ us to fight.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess
We’ve a hard row,” sez he,
“To hoe jest now; but thet, somehow
May heppen to J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an’ me!”
We ain’t so weak an’ poor, John,
With twenty million people,
An’ close to every door, John,
A school-house an’ a steeple.