Finally, wearying of the joke,
Starved with hunger and blind with smoke
From blazing barracks of pine and oak
Set fire from Morris' Island,
The gallant Anderson struck his flag
And packed his things in a carpet-bag,
While cheers from bobtail, rag, and tag,
Arose on Morris' Island.
Hokee pokee, winkee wum, etc.
VII.
Then came the comforting piece of fun
Of counting the noses one by one,
To see if anything had been done
On glorious Morris' Island:
“Nobody hurt!” the cry arose;
There was not missing a single nose,
And this was the sadly ludicrous close
Of the battle of Morris' Island:
Hokee pokee, winkee wum, etc.
VIII.
But, gentle gunners, just wait and see
What sort of a battle there yet will be;
You'll hardly escape so easily,
Next time on Morris' Island
There's a man in Washington with a will,
Who won't mind shooting a little “to kill,”
If it proves that We Have a Government still,
Even on Morris' Island!
Hokee pokee, winkee wum,
Shattering shot and thundering bomb,
Look out for the battle that's yet to come
Down there on Morris' Island!
--Vanity Fair, April 27.
