He was prejudiced, that Mark, a Eurōpian, in the dark,
Concernin' of our Glorious Institutions.
He paint our Bird o' Freedom? Lots have tried, but we don't heed 'em;
And revolvin' years bring curus retributions.
We don't care a brass farden! Dickens had to beg our pardon,
And that Max O'Rell will eat his words one day, Sir!
The real Yankee Eagle is as strong-winged as a Sea-gull,
With a beak as sharp as any Sheffield razor.
Still, he's been a trifle pippy, and has looked a little chippy—
By the mighty Mississippi yes, Sir!—lately.