Our folks believe in Law, John;
An' it's fer her sake, now,
They've left the axe an' saw, John,
The anvil an' the plough.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
Ef 'twarn't fer law," sez he,
"There'd be one shindy from here to Indy;
An' thet don't suit J. B.
(When 't ain't 'twixt you an' me!)"
We know we've got a cause, John,
Thet's honest, just, an' true;
We thought 'twould win applause, John,
If nowheres else, from you.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
His love of right," sez he,
"Hangs by a rotten fibre o' cotton:
There's natur' in J. B.,
Ez wal ez in 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,
Why, there's the old J. B.
A-crowdin' you an' me!"
Shall it be love, or hate, John?
It's you thet'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 forgit; an' some time yit
Thet truth may strike J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"
God means to make this land, John,
Clear thru, from sea to sea,
Believe an' understand, John,
The wuth o' bein' free.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
God's price is high," sez he;
"But nothin' else than wut he sells
Wears long, an' thet J. B.
May larn, like you an' me!"
James Russell Lowell.
England was clearly in the right in her contention; Wilkes's act was disavowed, and Mason and Slidell were delivered to an English steamer at Provincetown. All danger of war with England was for the time being avoided.
A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE
John Bull, Esquire, my jo John,
When we were first acquent,
You acted very much as now
You act about the Trent.
You stole my bonny sailors, John,
My bonny ships also,
You're aye the same fierce beast to me,
John Bull, Esquire, my jo!