, sez he, "I guess
We know it now," sez he,
"The Lion's paw is all the law,
Accordin' to J.B.,
Thet's fit for you and me!"
You wonder why we're hot, John?
Your mark wuz on the guns,
The neutral guns, thet shot, John,
Our brothers an' our sons:
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,
On _your_ front parlor stairs,
Would it just meet your views, John,
To wait an' sue their heirs?
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess,
I on'y guess," sez he,
"Thet ef Vattel on _his_ toes fell,
'T would kind o' rile J.B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"
Who made the law thet hurts, John,
_Heads I win--ditto tails_?
"J.B." was on his shirts, John,
Onless my memory fails.
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,
You didn't stop for fuss,--
Britanny's trident prongs, John,
Was good 'nough law for us.
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess
Though physic's good," sez he,
"It doesn'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.
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