be handy
To du the buryin’ down here upon the Rio Grandy), 40
About our patriotic pas an’ our star-spangled banner,
Our country’s bird alookin’ on an’ singin’ out hosanner,
An’ how he (Mister B. himself) wuz happy fer Ameriky,—­
I felt, ez sister Patience sez, a leetle mite histericky. 
I felt, I swon, ez though it wuz a dreffle kind o’ privilege
Atrampin’ round thru Boston streets among the gutter’s drivelage;
I act’lly thought it wuz a treat to hear a little drummin’,
An’ it did bonyfidy seem millanyum wuz acomin’
Wen all on us got suits (darned like them wore in the state prison)
An’ every feller felt ez though all Mexico wuz hisn.[15] 50
This ’ere’s about the meanest place a skunk could wal dlskiver
(Saltillo’s Mexican, I b’lieve, fer wut we call Salt-river);
The sort o’ trash a feller gits to eat doos beat all nater,
I’d give a year’s pay fer a smell o’ one good blue-nose tater,
The country here thet Mister Bolles declared to be so charmin’
Throughout is swarmin’ with the most alarmin’ kind o’ varmin. 
He talked about delishis froots, but then it wuz a wopper all,
The holl on ’t ‘s mud an’ prickly pears, with here an’ there a chapparal;
You see a feller peekin’ out, an’, fust you know, a lariat
Is round your throat an’ you a copse, ’fore you can say, ’Wut air ye
  at?’[16] 60
You never see sech darned gret bugs (it may not be irrelevant
To say I’ve seen a scarabaeus pilularius[17] big ez a year old elephant),
The rigiment come up one day in time to stop a red bug
From runnin off with Cunnle Wright,—­’twuz jest a common cimex
  lectularius.

One night I started up on eend an’ thought I wuz to hum agin, I heern a horn, thinks I it’s Sol the fisherman hez come agin, His bellowses is sound enough,—­ez I’m a livin’ creeter, I felt a thing go thru my leg—­’twuz nothin’ more ’n a skeeter!  Then there’s the yaller fever, tu, they call it here el vomito,—­ (Come, thet wun’t du, you landcrab there, I tell ye to le’ go my
  toe! 70
My gracious! it’s a scorpion thet’s took a shine to play with ’t, I darsn’t skeer the tarnal thing fer fear he’d run away with ’t,) Afore I come away from hum I hed a strong persuasion Thet Mexicans worn’t human beans,[18]—­an ourang outang nation, A sort o’ folks a chap could kill an’ never dream on ’t arter, No more ‘n a feller’d dream o’ pigs thet he hed hed to slarter; I’d an idee thet they were built arter the darkie fashion all, An’ kickin’ colored folks about, you know ‘s a kind o’ national; But wen I jined I worn’t so wise ez thet air queen o’ Sheby, Fer, come to look at ’em, they aint much diff’rent from wut we be, 80 An’ here we air ascrougin’ ’em out o’ thir own dominions, Ashelterin’ ’em, ez Caleb sez, under our eagle’s pinions, Wich means to take a feller up jest by the slack o’ ’s trowsis An’ walk him Spanish clean right out o’ all his homes an’ houses;