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(Nigh fifty year they hed n't stirred nor spoke)
Made sech a coil you 'd thought a dam hed broke :
Why, one he up an' beat a revellee
With his own crossbones on a holler tree,
Till all the graveyards swarmed out like a hive
With faces I hain't seen sence Seventy-five.
Wut is the news? 'T ain't good, or they 'd be

cheerin'.
Speak slow an' clear, for I 'm some hard o' hearin.

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THE MONIMENT.

I don't know hardly ef it 's good or bad,

THE BRIDGE.

At wust, it can't be wus than wut we've had.

THE MONIMENT.

You know them envys thet the Rebbles sent,
An' Cap'n Wilkes he borried o' the Trent?

THE BRIDGE.

Wut! they ha'n't hanged 'em? Then their wits is

gone! Thet ’s the sure way to make a goose a swan!

THE MONIMENT.

No: England she would hev 'em, Fee, Faw, Fum!
(Ez though she hed n't fools enough to home,)
So they've returned 'em -

THE BRIDGE.

Hey they ? Wal, by heaven,

Thet 's the wust news I've heerd sence Seventy

seven! By George, I meant to say, though I declare It’s ’most enough to make a deacon swear.

THE MONIMENT.

Now don't go off half-cock: folks never gains
By usin' pepper-sarse instid o' brains.
Come, neighbor, you don't understan-

THE BRIDGE.

How? Hey ? Not understan'? Why, wut 's to hender, pray ? Must I go huntin' round to find a chap To tell me when my face hez hed a slap ?

THE MONIMENT.

See here: the British they found out a flaw
In Cap’n Wilkes's readin' o' the law :
(They make all laws, you know, an’so, o' course,
It's nateral they should understan' their force :)
He'd oughto ha' took the vessel into port,
An' hed her sot on by a reg’lar court;
She was a mail-ship, an’ a steamer, tu,
An' thet, they say, hez changed the pint o' view,
Coz the old practice, bein' meant for sails,
Ef tried upon a steamer, kind o' fails;
You may take out despatches, but you mus' n't
Take nary man

THE BRIDGE.

You mean to say, you dus' n't!

nary

258

BİGLOW

THE BIGLOW PAPERS Changed pint o' view! No, no, — it's overboard With law an' gospel, when their ox is gored! I tell ye, England's law, on sea an' land, Hez ollers ben, “ I've gut the heaviest hand.Take man ? Fine preachin' from her lips ! Why, she hez taken hunderds from our ships, An' would agin, an' swear she had a right to, Ef we warn't strong enough to be perlite to. Of all the sarse thet I can call to mind, England doos make the most onpleasant kind : It's you 're the sinner ollers, she's the saint ; Wut's good ’s all English, all thet is n't ain't; Wut profits her is ollers right an' just, An' ef you don't read Scriptur so, you must; She's praised herself ontil she fairly thinks There ain't no light in Natur when she winks; Hain't she the Ten Comman'ments in her pus? Could the world stir ’thout she went, tu, ez nus? She ain't like other mortals, thet 's a fact: She never stopped the habus-corpus act, Nor specie payments, nor she never yet Cut down the int’rest on her public debt; She don't put down rebellions, lets 'em breed, An' 's ollers willin' Ireland should secede; She's all thet 's honest, honnable, an' fair, An' when the vartoos died they made her heir.

THE MONIMENT.

Wal, wal, two wrongs don't never make a right;
Ef we're mistaken, own up, an' don't fight:
For gracious' sake, ha’n’t we enough to du
’thout gettin' up a fight with England, tu ?
She thinks we ’re rabble-rid -

THE BRIDGE.

An' so we can't Distinguish 'twixt You ought n't an' You sha’n’t ! She jedges by herself; she's no idear How ’t stiddies folks to give 'em their fair sheer: The odds 'twixt her an' us is plain 's a steeple, — Her People's turned to Mob, our Mob's turned

People.

THE MONIMENT.

She's riled jes' now

THE BRIDGE.

Plain proof her cause ain't strong, The one thet fust gits mad's 'most ollers wrong. Why, sence she helped in lickin' Nap the Fust, An' pricked a bubble jest agoin' to bust, With Rooshy, Prooshy, Austry, all assistin', Th' ain't nut a face but wut she's shook her fist in, Ez though she done it all, an' ten times more, An' nothin' never hed gut done afore, Nor never could agin, 'thout she wuz spliced On to one eend an' gin th' old airth a hoist. She is some punkins, thet I wun't deny, (For ain't she some related to you 'n' I ?) But there's a few small intrists here below Outside the counter o' John Bull an' Co, An' though they can't conceit how 't should be so, I guess the Lord druv down Creation's spiles ’thout no gret helpin' from the British Isles, An' could contrive to keep things pooty stiff Ef they withdrawed from business in a miff;

I ha'n't no patience with sech swellin' fellers ez Think God can't forge 'thout them to blow the bel

lerses.

THE MONIMENT.

You ’re ollers quick to set your back aridge, Though 't suits a tom-cat more ’n a sober bridge: Don't you git het: they thought the thing was

planned ; They 'll cool off when they come to understand.

THE BRIDGE.

Ef thet's wut you expect, you 'll hev to wait:
Folks never understand the folks they hate :
She 'll fin' some other grievance jest ez good,
'fore the month 's out, to git misunderstood.
England cool off! She'll do it, ef she sees
She's run her head into a swarm o’ bees.
I ain't so prejudiced ez wut you spose :
I hev thought England was the best thet goes ;
Remember (no, you can't), when I was reared,
God save the King was all the tune you

heerd: But it's enough to turn Wachuset roun’ This stumpin' fellers when you think they ’re down,

THE MONIMENT.

But, neighbor, ef they prove their claim at law,
The best way is to settle, an' not jaw.
An' don't le''s mutter 'bout the awfle bricks
We'll give 'em, ef we ketch 'em in a fix :
That 'ere's most frequently the kin' o'talk
Of critters can't be kicked to toe the chalk;

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