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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 1. (ed. Frank Moore), A Fragment--Cabinet council. (search)
k! Have mercy, Jeff. Davis! Soft — I did but dream. [Loud knocking heard at the door.] Who knocks thus loudly? Seward--[without.] 'Tis I, my Lord! the White House cock; Thrice have I crowed since the day hath broke. [Enter Seward, Chase, Bates, Blair, Cameron, and Welles.] Cameron — How doth my good Lord? Lincoln — Indifferently well, methinks, good Coz, That confection of homminy and hog, which, as my wont, Late on yester eve I ate, did most wofully affect me. Have I no leech among my councincoln — Away with this nostrum — I'll none of it! For know ye, I bought a box from a harum-scarum boy, Whom I encountered on our Western train, and who Cried--God wot!--“Old Abe, buy some Pills?” These I bought, and tried, and got no better fast. Blair — You'd scarce expect one of my age To speak in public on the stage. Yet I can but think 'Tis not the confection, but the defection of the Southern tier, Which pains our Liege's---- Lincoln — Ass! knave! think you so? Know you not, m
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 1. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 354 (search)
119. A welcome to the invader. an ode, addressed to the picked men of Col. Wilson's New York command. I. What! have ye come to spoil our fields, Black hearts and bloody hands! And taste the sweets that conquest yields To those who win our lands? II. Back to your dens of crime and shame, Black hearts and bloody hands! Ye but disgrace a soldier's name, Owning such vile commands. III. Your ribald chieftain is a fool,-- Black hearts and bloody hands! In sneaky Seward's grasp a tool-- In Blair's — a beast he stands. IV. Dare ye with patriot men to strive?-- Black hearts and bloody hands! And can ye hope to ‘scape alive From their avenging brands? V. Thieves, ruffians, hirelings, slaves, Black hearts and bloody hands! Our country will refuse its graves To your polluted bands. VI. The carrion vulture in his flight-- Black hearts and bloody hands! Shall scent you, as you droop in fight, Nor wait your ebbing sands. --Charleston Couri