An’ rid me roun’ to see the place, entirely free ‘f expense,
With forty-’leven new kines o’ sarse without no charge acquainted me,
Gi’ me three cheers, an’ vowed thet I wuz all their fahncy painted me;
They treated me to all their eggs; (they keep ’em, I should think,
Fer sech ovations, pooty long, for they wuz mos’ distinc’;)
They starred me thick ’z the Milky-Way with indiscrim’nit cherity,
For wut we call reception eggs air sunthin’ of a rerity;
Green ones is plentifle anough, skurce wuth a nigger’s getherin’,
But your dead-ripe ones ranges high fer treatin’ Nothun bretherin:
A spotteder, ringstreakeder child the’ warn’t in Uncle Sam’s