113. Return of the Doodles!1Hail! Texan Bombastes! You must be a stunner!
Some powder-begotten, fierce son-of-a-gunner!
But your first crumb of comfort, and last, is Bull Run,
For somehow the Yankees have spoilt all that fun.
What sights you have seen! 0 wonderful story!
Eclipsing all records of old Roman glory;
My light-heeled stampeder, allow me to tell
The sequel of Bull Run, and how it befell.
There's a wee dit-of-bifference betwixt me and you,
I tell the plain truth; you lie, knave — you do.
 With breastworks and marshes, in North-Carolina,
Your chance to kill Yankees could never be finer;
One glance at your bowie-knives' savage expression
Should frighten to death every cowardly Hessian--
There's some dittle lifference 'twixt you and me;
What is it? Be patient — you'll very soon see.
Bang goes the big cannon — crack go the sure rifles--
On, on moves the North, for it don't stop at trifles;
The battle is ended; who's winner? I am,
Says our liberty-loving, thrice blest Uncle Sam!
On your Western Gibraltars while placing reliance,
With cotton-zone heroes and Beauregard's science,
Our banner-defenders, amid battle's din,
Marched up to your works, then bravely dashed in.
Your rebels discuss, with such evident unction,
Our only defeat at Manassas' famed Junction,
Let me ask you one question, with a very low bow,
You held it at that time, but who holds it now?
Why, what were you doing, O fierce Texan Ranger!
Who sleep on volcanoes and breakfast on danger,
On the day when the chivalry, panic-struck, ran,
Basely frightened away by our wee Iron mand2
Still hide in your forts, still skulk in your garrisons,
Indulge in self-complacent, boasting comparisons,
But this new mode of fighting by running away,
Is a mode, in the long run, that's sure not to pay.
Oh! there's this dit-of-bifference betwixt you and us,
We'll lamm you and flax you for raising this muss!
Boston, March 21, 1862.