I thought th’ ole Union’s hoops wuz off, an’ let myself be sucked in
To rise a peg an’ jine the crowd thet went for reconstructin’,—
Thet is, to hev the pardnership under th’ ole name continner
Jest ez it wuz, we drorrin’ pay, you findin’ bone an’ sinner,—
On’y to put it in the bond, an’ enter ’t in the journals,
Thet you’re the nat’ral rank an’ file an’ we the nat’ral kurnels.
Now this I thought a fees’ble plan, thet ’ud work smooth ez grease,
Suitin’ the Nineteenth Century an’ Upper Ten idees,
An’ there I meant to stick, an’ so did most o’ th’ leaders, tu,
Coz we all thought the chance wuz good o’ puttin’ on it thru;