Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 8.
Frank Moore, Ed.

38. our money.

Our treasury is furnished with rags,
     So thick even Jeff cannot thin 'em.
Jeff's torn up his old money bags,
     Having nothing like cash to put in 'em.
Our farmers are smashed up by dozens,
     But this is all nothing they say;
For bankrupts, since Adam, are cousins,
     But 'tis all in a family way.

Our debts not a shilling take from us,
     As statesmen the matter explain;
Bob owes it to Tom, and then Thomas
     Just owes it to Bob back again.
Since all thus have taken to owing,
     There's nobody left that can pay;
And that is the way we keep going,
     All just in a family way.

Our congressmen vote away millions
     To put in the huge Southern budget,
And if it were billions or trillions,
     The generous rogues would not grudge it.
'Tis naught but a family hop,
     And Jeff began dancing they say--
Hands round! Why the deuce should we stop?
     'Tis all in a family way.

Our rich cotton-planters all tumble--
     The poor ones have nothing to chew,
And if they themselves do not grumble,
     Their stomachs undoubtedly do.
For sure to be hungry en famille,
     Is as good for the soul as to pray,
And famine itself is but genteel
     When one starves in a family way.

But I've found out a secret for Jeffy--
     A secret for next budget-day--
Though he spurn my advice in a jiffy,
     As he too's a sage in his way:
When next for the treasury scene, he
     Announces the devil to pay,
Just write on the bill, nota bene,
     For it's all in a family way.