“Hangs by a rotten fibre o’cotton:
There’s natur’ in J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an’ me!”
The South says, “Poor folks down!” John,
An’ “All men up!” say we.—
White, yaller, black, an’ brown, John:
Now which is your idee?
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess,
John preaches wal,” sez he;
“But, sermon thru, an’ come to du