Hang my idle armor up on the wall, And the wanderer is welcome to the hall The summer's long siege at last is o'er: And mastered the fortress by surprise; There is no spot she loves so well on ground; Has hall and bower at his command; And there's no poor man in the North Countree THE PIOUS EDITOR'S CREED. I DU believe in Freedom's cause I love to see her stick her claws I du believe the people want Fer I hev loved my country sence My eye-teeth filled their sockets, I du believe in any plan O' levyin' the taxes, Ez long ez, like a lumberman, Because it kind o' rouses The folks to vote, an' keeps us in I du believe it's wise an' good I du believe in special ways O' prayin' an' convartin'; The bread comes back in many days, I du believe hard coin the stuff To make hard money out on; An' gives a good-sized junk to all,I don't care how hard money is, Ez long ez mine's paid punctooal. I du believe with all my soul I du believe thet I should give Frum him my bread an' cheese air; I du believe thet all o' me Doth bear his souperscription, Will, conscience, honor, honesty, But most of all in CANTIN'; This doth my cup with marcies fill, This lays all thought o' sin to rest, I don't believe in princerple, But, O, I du in interest. I du believe in bein' this Or thet, ez it may happen One way or t'other hendiest is To ketch the people nappin'; It aint by princerples nor men My preudunt course is steadied,- I du believe thet holdin' slaves I couldn't ax with no face, I du believe wutever trash 'll keep the people in blindness,Thet we the Mexicuns can thrash Right into brotherly kindness, Thet bombshells, grape, an' powder 'n' ball Air good-will's strongest magnets, Thet peace, to make it stick at all, Must be druv in with bagnets. In short, I firmly du believe In Humbug generally, Fer it's a thing thet I perceive To hev a solid vally; This heth my faithful shepherd ben, In pasturs sweet heth led me, An' this 'll keep the people green To feed ez they hev fed me. THE DEBATE IN THE SENNIT. "HERE we stan' on the Constitution, by thunder! "Human rights haint no more Right to come on this floor, No more'n the man in the moon," sez he. "The North haint no kind o' bisness with nothin', Sez Mister Foote, "I should like to shoot The holl gang, by the gret horn spoon!" sez he. "Freedom's Keystone is Slavery, thet ther's no doubt on, It's sutthin' thet's wha' d' ye call it? — divine, An' the slaves that we ollers make the most out on Air them north o' Mason an' Dixon's line," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he; "Fer all thet," sez Mangum, ""Twould be better to hang 'em, An' so git red on 'em soon," sez he. "The mass ough' to labor an' we lay on soffies, Thet's the reason I want to spread Freedom's aree; It puts all the cunninest on us in office, An' reelises our Maker's orig❜nal idee," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;- "Ez thet some one's an ass, It's ez clear ez the sun is at noon," sez he. "Now don't go to say I'm the friend of oppression, But keep all your spare breath fer coolin' your broth, Fer I ollers hev strove (at least thet's my impression) To make cussed free with the rights o' the North," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he; "Yes," sez Davis o' Miss., "The perfection o' bliss Is in skinnin' thet same old coon," sez he. "Slavery's a thing that depends on complexion, It's God's law thet fetters on black skins don't chafe; Ef brains wuz to settle it (horrid reflection!) Wich of our onnable body'd be safe?" Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he; Sez Mister Hannegan, Afore he began agin, "Thet exception is quite oppertoon," sez he. "Gen'nle Cass, Sir, you needn't be twitchin' your collar, Sez Mister Jarnagin, "They wunt hev to larn again, They all on 'em know the old toon," sez he. "The slavery question aint no ways bewilderin'. North an' South hev one int'rest, it's plain to a glance; No'thern men, like us patriarchs, don't sell their childrin, But they du sell themselves, ef they git a good chance," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he; Sez Atherton here, "This is gittin' severe, I wish I could dive like a loon," sez he. "It'll break up the Union, this talk about freedom, An' your fact'ry gals (soon ez we split) 'll make head, "Yes, the North," sez Colquitt, Would go down like a busted balloon," sez he. "Jest look wut is doin', wut annyky's brewin' In the beautiful clime o' the olive an' vine, All the wise aristoxy is tumblin' to ruin, An' the sankylots drorin' an' drinkin' their wine," "Yes," sez Johnson, "in France They're beginnin' to dance Beelzebub's own rigadoon," sez he. "The South's safe enough, it don't feel a mite skeery, Our slaves in their darkness an' dut air tu blest |