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Drummers and generals, boy and man,
And gunners too, to quarters ran;
Oh, how they feared the awful ark
That loomed so large through midnight dark I
As fast as she in range drew near,
Their batteries roared with rage and fear;
Brimful when she began to float,
No balls could sink this mystic boat.
They marvelled much she did not sink;
“She's shot-proof, sure I” the rebels think;
Who ever heard of Yankee trick
That worked than this more cute and slick?
The Butternuts waste shell and shot,
Their cannonade gets loud and hot,
They burn their powder, burst their guns,
And shake the shores with deafening stuns.
Louder than powder, on our side,
Our soldiers laughed until they cried;
Some held their ribs, some rolled on grass,
To think Secesh was such an ass.
Nor was this din of laugh and gun,
The choicest part of Porter's fun.
The Queen of the West, that captive ram,
Escaped by flight a dreaded jam.,
Away she went, we know not where!
But hers was not the biggest scare,--
For down the stream, their valued prey,
The captured Indianola lay.
They thought to fit this costly prize,
To run and “blast the Yankees' eyes ;”
But blew her up, as the scow drew near-
Blew her to shivers, in their fear.
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