Why, there’s the old J. B.
A crowdin’ you an’ me!”
Shall it be love, or hate, John?
It’s you that’s to decide;
Ain’t your bonds held by Fate, John,
Like all the world’s beside;
Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess
Wise men forgive,” sez he,
“But not forget; an’ some time yet
Thet truth may strike J.B.,