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Cotton. “Hurra, mighty Cotton! our scheme is a-foot, So get up your prettiest figure; For travelling dress take your best royal suit, (Dyed gules with the blood of a nigger;) Go round to the nations and ask for their aid, And teach them much more than they wot on; Go, make all your brothers, the monarchs, afraid Their kingdoms must perish if ‘reft of our trade.” “By Plutus, I will,” says King Cotton, King Cotton, “By Plutus, I will,” says King Cotton. Then off goes King Cotton to find Johnny Bull, And deep in his counting-house found him; (Of idols and opium the top shelves were full, With Bibles and prayer-books just round him.) “Your help or your life, Master Johnny!” says he; “Up, arm, and bring Paddy and Scot on! For if you don't aid such good fellows as we, Your mills shall be stopped, and then where will you be? ” Put that in your pipe, “says King Cotton, King Cotton, ” Put that in your pipe, “says King Cotton. Then Johnny looked up with his pen in his
the vorld; Hand I howe him a grudge for his conduct so wile, In himportina shillalahs from Erin's green hile. “I knows Jefferson D. is a rascally chap, Who goes bin for cribbina the Guvurnment pap; That Hexeter ‘All may be down upon me, But as Jeff. ‘as the cotton, I'll cotton to he. “I cares for the blacks not a drat more nor he, Though on principle I goes for settina ‘em free; But hinterest, my cove, we must look after now,-- Unless principle yields, it are poor anyhow.” So spoke Johnny Bull, so he spake hunto me, Hand I ‘inted slyly to Jefferson D., Who, very much pleased, rubbed his ‘ands in his joy, Hand exclaimed: “You're the man for my money, old boy. “Go in, Johnny Times! I will feather your nest; Never mind if you soil it, ‘tis foul at the best; Strange guests have been thar, but my cotton is clean, And a cargo is yourn, if you manage it keen.” So I pitched hinto Doodle like a thousan‘ of brick,-- May'ap it warn't proper to do it — on tick, But
Bully for you. --The word Bull is destined to become famous in this war. If our men did run from Bull Run, we have now an offset in the fact that the rebels, under Gen. Henry A. Wise, did also run from Bull's Town. So we now have Bull against Bull, and the bully of Accomac is the set-off, who set off so bravely to do what he could not accomplish. Bully for you. There was a man of Accomac, And he was bully Wise; He jumped into Kanawha's bush, And scratched out both his eyes; And, when he se fact that the rebels, under Gen. Henry A. Wise, did also run from Bull's Town. So we now have Bull against Bull, and the bully of Accomac is the set-off, who set off so bravely to do what he could not accomplish. Bully for you. There was a man of Accomac, And he was bully Wise; He jumped into Kanawha's bush, And scratched out both his eyes; And, when he saw he lost his eyes, With all his might and main, From Kanawha he quickly flies, To brag, and — run again. --National Republican, Aug. 5
o-day they've held a sway They never can regain, sir. And when they cannot rule, they kick And hate with all their might, sir, For love of Union's second to Their fondness for State rights, sir. “They say we mean to free their slaves And take them from their hands, sir, And rob them of their property, Their daughters, and their lands, sir. We've told them that we meant not sich, But this they have not heeded; So, feeling sore, they've took to war And wilfully seceded. “We only ask them to obey The same laws that we do, sir, Their fathers helped our own to make-- They were good men, and true, sir; We ask no more, we'll take no less, Though every tarnal drop, sir, Of Northern blood the land shall flood Till then it cannot stop, sir. “I want but justice, bully John, Respect, and all my dues sir, And when I have them, Johnny Bull, You shall have cotton too, sir. But not till then, that's sartin, sure, So take the matter easy; And when the war is over, John, I'll do my best to please
46. Bully, Crapeau, and the bear. by Naynha. Mr. Bull, with a face like a brick, One evening, just after his dinner, Says, now my poor cousin is sick, “Hi'll maul ‘im has Hi ham a sinner. His vessels ‘ave plenty to do, His soldiers ‘ave more, and can't do it; I'll pop in a thousand or two, By Jingo! hi'll soon put ‘im through it.” Singing: Give it him, Bull, tra la, Take care of your chances and work ‘em, If your “dear friends” are ailing, tra la, Don't lose any time till you bark ‘em. But pate in a minute;” And he made a grimace at his back Saying, “I hope that ye'll put yer fut in it.” Singing: Give it him, Bull, tra la, Take care of your chances and work ‘em, If your “dear friends” are ailing, tra la, Don't lose any time till yees ll not be caught by yees; I'll lay a respictable bet Uncle Sam don't require to be taught by yees. Singing: Trust him not, Bull, tra la, The Divil's benathe that swate face of his; He's making yees dance, tra la, While he whi
Blasted B'S.--The B's have swarmed upon us for some time, and are more provocative of nightmare than mince pie at ten o'clock. We had Buchanan, Breckinridge, Black, Bright, Bigler, Bayard, Benjamin, and Brown to curse the nation in the civil ranks, and now we are haunted by Bull Run, Ball's Bluff, Big Bethel, and Bull's Bay, boldly entered by our fleet, notwithstanding the ominous prestige against B's. Blast the B's. We hope they will cease to swarm on the boughs of the Tree of Liberty. We hope our fleet will make no Bull in Bull's Bay, and regret that Beaufort begins with B.--Cleveland Plain Dealer. There seems to be another blasted B down at Belmont, Mo.
ate, Caught out at sea! Take him up tenderly, Abraham L.; Handle him gingerly-- No one can tell What risks we encounter, In thus rudely chasina The pompous ambassador, C. S. A. Mason! Ah, the proud Minister Cometh to grief; With prospects so brilliant, How wonderful brief His life diplomatic-- All smoothly it runs, Till over his pathway It bloweth great guns! A sorry denouement This, brave F. F. V.; Thy fondest hopes blasted, Thy plans all at sea! You dreamed not of capture, While with Johnny Bull; You thought if we tried it, We'd have our hands full! But when Uncle Samuel Appeared on your track, And gave you his thunder, To which you knocked under, O! is it a wonder You were taken aback? O! poor Master Mason, There are sermons in stones-- Don't they speak to you yonder In eloquent tones? Howe'er mortar-fying To “go to the wall,” We think we've discovered Your Forte after all! We send you to Warren, Your station to fill, As Minister Foreign Nigh old Bunker Hill! You always was war
21. O Johnny Bull my Jo John! air--John Anderson my Jo. It was stated in the Dispatch during the last dayise to the following imitation of an old song: O Johnny Bull my Jo John! I wonder what you mean, By sending aou do so? Best catch and sink or burn them all, O Johnny Bull my Jo! O Johnny Bull my Jo John! when Yankee haJohnny Bull my Jo John! when Yankee hands profane, Were laid in wanton insult upon the lion's mane, He roared so loud and long, John, they quickly let him go, And sank upon their trembling knees, O Johnny Bull my Jo! O Johnny Bull my Jo John! when Lincoln fiJohnny Bull my Jo John! when Lincoln first began To try his hand at war, John, you were a peaceful man; But now your blood is up, John, and well the Yankees know, You play the d--1 when you start, O Johnny Bull my Jo! O Johnny Bull my Jo John, let's take the fJohnny Bull my Jo John, let's take the field together, And hunt the Yankee Doodles home in spite of wind and weather, And ere a twelvemonth roll aroundo Boston we will go, And eat our Christmas dinner there, O Johnny Bull my Jo! Richmond Dispatch, January 22.
ees, John Bull, They'll “teach you a thing, now, or two;” Don't meddle with the Yankees, John Bull, Don't meddle, whatever you do! They are ten times as strong, Johnny Bull, And a hundred more daring to kill, Than, when in their weakness, John Bull, Your “hirelings” besieged Bunker Hill. Don't meddle with the Yankees, John Bull, Thkees, John Bull, Or else you may force them to fight. And then, when in their strength, John Bull, They cross the St. Lawrence, “mi boy,” Look out to be served, Johnny Bull, As you treated the captured Sepoy. The Yankees don't boast, Johnny Bull, They but speak out their mind as it is; Then I pray you don't meddle, John Bull, For “Johnny Bull, They but speak out their mind as it is; Then I pray you don't meddle, John Bull, For “the Yankees are awful when riz!” They had hoped to be friendly, John Bull, At least to have lived that profession; But if meddled with, mark it, John Bull, They'll serve you, as of old, with the “Hessian.” We've “a ost hov your eroes,” John Bull, Growing fat from the wealth of our land, Who profess to be loyal,
ing back again. Your swampy land's too hot for us, We are going off to cool; But never mind, our Monitor Will put you all to school. When last you saw a silver dime, The truth it must be said; To search your empty pockets, boys, They'll answer “nary red.” We've tried to eat your beef, boys, It was too tough and dry-- It matched your biscuits made of corn, Your coffee made of rye. What think you of Jeff Davis now-- Now wasn't he a fool To stuff his ears with Cotton, boys, And trust to Johnny Bull? You thought the French would help you, But that, too, was “no go;” “Nap” has other fish to fry, Way down in Mexico. Oh! when we meet again, my boys, There'll be a pretty muss; Don't cry, you've not seen the last Of our green fag and us. The Yankee newspapers captured are not of very late date, and it would be useless, therefore, to make extracts from them. They are redolent with magnificent Federal victories, in every one of which there are accounts of splendid bayonet-char
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