she’s the saint;
  Wut’s good’s all English, all thet isn’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 it, an’ don’t fight: 
For gracious’ sake, hain’t we enough to du
‘Thout gittin’ up a fight with England, tu? 
She thinks we’re rabble-rid------

THE BRIDGE

                     An’ so we can’t
  Distinguish ‘twixt You oughtn’t an’ You shan’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.

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 wilt 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;
  Your “You’ll see nex’ time!” an’ “Look out bimeby!”
  Most ollers ends in eatin’ umble-pie. 
  ’T wun’t pay to scringe to