Thou, taught by Fate to know Jehovah's plan An' whose free latch-string never was drawed in Jest here some dogs begun to bark, So thet I lost old Concord's last remark: near; But ez they hed n't no gret things to say, An' sed 'em often, I come right away, An', walkin' home'ards, jest to pass the time, I put some thoughts thet bothered me in rhyme ; JONATHAN TO JOHN It don't seem hardly right, John, -- Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess "The lion's paw is all the law, Thet's fit for you an' me!" You wonder why we 're hot, John? Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess There's human blood," sez he, "By fits an' starts, in Yankee hearts, Though 't may surprise J. B. More 'n it would you an' me." Ef I turned mad dogs loose, John, Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, "Thet ef Vattel on his toes fell, Who made the law thet hurts, John, "J. B." was on his shirts, John, Onless my memory fails. 66 Ole Uncle S. sez he, I guess (I'm good at thet)," sez he, "Thet sauce for goose ain't jest the juice For ganders with J. B., No more 'n with you or me!" When your rights was our wrongs, John, Britanny's trident prongs, John, Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, Though physic's good," sez he, "It does n't foller thet he can swaller Prescriptions signed ‘J. B.,' Put up by you an' me!" We own the ocean, tu, John : You mus' n' take it hard, Ef we can't think with you, John, It's jest your own back-yard. Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, Ef thet's his claim," sez he, "The fencin'-stuff 'll cost enough To bust up friend J. B., Ez wal ez you an' me!" Why talk so dreffle big, John, But jest for ten per cent? Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I "I guess He's like the rest," sez he: 54 When all is done, it's number one Thet's nearest to J. B., Ez wal ez t' you an' me!” We give the critters back, John, Cos Abram thought 't was right; It warn't your bullyin' clack, John, Provokin' us to fight. Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess "To hoe jest now; but thet, somehow, Ez wal ez you an' me!" We ain't so weak an' poor, John, "The surest plan to make a Man Our folks believe in Law, John; The anvil an' the plough. Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, Ef 't warn't for law," sez he, "There'd be one shindy from here to Indy; An' thet don't suit J. B. (When 't ain't 'twixt you an' me!)" We know we've got a cause, John, We thought 't would win applause, John, Ef nowheres else, from you. Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess His love of right," sez he, 66 Hangs by a rotten fibre o' cotton: Ez wal 'z in you an' me!" The South says, "Poor folks down!" John, An' "All men up !" White, yaller, black, an' brown, John: Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, John preaches wal," sez he; "But, sermon thru, an' come to du, Why, there's the old J. B. A crowdin' you an' me!" Shall it be love, or hate, John? Ain't your bonds held by Fate, John, Like all the world's beside? 66 Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess Wise men forgive,” sez he, "But not forgit; an' some time yit Thet truth may strike J. B., Ez wal ez you an' me!" God means to make this land, John, Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, God's price is high," sez he; "But nothin' else than wut He sells Wears long, an' thet J. B. May larn, like you an' me!" |