65.
a Moddle Proklamashun,
（Kimprisin the mane buties of severeal heertofore iss<*>ed.,
by the Orther of let-us-alone.
Hear we air, gentlemen!--don't be alarmd--Ef I can help it, you shant be harmd.
Trew, sence you faled in the matter of voats,
You've done your — darndest — to cutt our throtes--
Rayther steep, I expect — but still,
Ef you wanter, I s'pose you will.
Prowd to meet you! sech valyant soles
Kin sore like buzzards, or digg like moals.
Lots of things you've done, as impart
Ekal credit to hed and hart--
Them neat little bombs you know how to fix,
Your pizened wiskey, and sechlike trix,
Your chivalrous grubbina up oa graves,
Bilina and stewina the bones of our braves,
And scrapina on em, from hed to heel,
Shows that you're “foemen worthy our steel!”
Then, the laydies I how wunderin memmory traces
All the refined and dellikit faces
They make for us, (rayther abrupt, too,)
Improvizin new ares and graices
As vulgar feemales aint up to!
Little tuches of femmernine tact,
Our onbred wimmin-folks, sumhow, can't act--
Fur none on 'em, plane or good-lookina,
Ef meetina of men on the sidewalk-flats,
Cood siss like sarpents, or spitt like kats,
Or go thru the moshuns of pukina!
Wun little thing — I larn you're afeard
About the niggers — now, don't be skeerd.
You think, mayhap, they'll shirk
From diggina trenches and sarvina your guns--
But if ary wun of the reskils runs,
I'll send him back to his wurk:
And, as for nuze, ef the rogues vollunteer it,
All I kin say is, I don't want to heer it--
On all sech bizness I frown--
And, ef they're likely to kick up a muss,
Or sech allfired fools as to fite for us,
Jest see how I'll put 'em down!
Thus, you see, wen the Nashun fites,
Constitootion and sovering rites
Is held at a pooty high figger--
Heer our riflemen, how they cry
Wenever they dror the trigger,
Jest as a Minny they let fly
At some poore devvle you've driv to dye:
“Now, sett up a nuther nigger.”
Hartford Press.
