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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862"


Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
Though physic's good," sez he,
"It doesn't foller thet he can swaller
Prescriptions signed 'J.B.,'
Put up by you an' me!"
We own the ocean, tu, John:
You mus'n't take it hard,
Ef we can't think with you, John,
It's jest your own back-yard.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
Ef _thet's_ his claim," sez he,
"The fencin'-stuff 'll cost enough
To bust up friend J.B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"
Why talk so dreffle big, John,
Of honor, when it meant
You didn't care a fig, John,
But jest for _ten per cent_.?
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
He's like the rest," sez he:
"When all is done, it's number one
Thet's nearest to J.B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"
We give the critters back, John,
Coz Abram thought 't was right;
It warn't your bullyin' clack, John,
Provokin' us to fight.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
We've a hard row," sez he,
"To hoe jest now; but thet, somehow,
May heppen to J.B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"
We ain't so weak an' poor, John,
With twenty million people,
An' close to every door, John,
A school-house an' a steeple.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
It is a fact," sez he,
"The surest plan to make a Man
Is, Think him so, J.B.,
Ez much ez you or me!"
Our folks believe in Law, John;
An' it's for her sake, now,
They've left the axe an' saw, John,
The anvil an' the plough.


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