They ’lowed it wouldn’t be more ’n right, ef I should cuss ‘n’ darn
          some: 
  The Cunnle he apolergized; suz he, “I’ll du wut ’s right,
  I’ll give ye settisfection now by shootin’ ye at sight,
  An’ give the nigger, (when he’s caught,) to pay him fer his trickin’
  In gittin’ the wrong man took up, a most H fired lickin’,—­
  It’s jest the way with all on ’em, the inconsistent critters,
  They’re ‘most enough to make a man blaspheme his mornin’ bitters;
  I’ll be your frien’ thru thick an’ thin an’ in all kines o’ weathers,
  An’ all you’ll hev to pay fer ‘s jest the waste o’ tar an’ feathers: 
  A lady owned the bed, ye see, a widder, tu, Miss Shennon;
  It wuz her mite; we would ha’ took another, ef ther ’d ben one: 
  We don’t make no charge for the ride an’ all the other fixins. 
  Le’ ’s liquor; Gin’ral, you can chalk our friend for all the mixins.” 
  A meetin’ then wuz called, where they “RESOLVED, Thet we respec’
  B.S.  Esquire for quallerties o’ heart an’ intellec’
  Peculiar to Columby’s sile, an’ not to no one else’s,
  Thet makes European tyrans scringe in all their gilded pel’ces,
  An’ doos gret honor to our race an’ Southun institootions”: 
  (I give ye jest the substance o’ the leadin’ resolootions:)
  “RESOLVED, Thet we revere in him a soger ’thout a flor,
  A martyr to the princerples o’ libbaty an’ lor: 
  RESOLVED, Thet other nations all, ef sot ‘longside o’ us,
  For vartoo, larnin’, chivverlry, ain’t noways wuth a cuss.” 
  They gut up a subscription, tu, but no gret come o’ that;
  I ‘xpect in cairin’ of it roun’ they took a leaky hat;
  Though Southun genelmun ain’t slow at puttin’ down their name,
  (When they can write,) fer in the eend it comes to jest the same,
  Because, ye see, ’t ‘s the fashion here to sign an’ not to think
  A critter’d be so sordid ez to ax ’em for the chink: 
  I didn’t call but jest on one, an’ he drawed toothpick on me,
  An’ reckoned he warn’t goin’ to stan’ no sech dog-gauned econ’my;
  So nothin’ more wuz realized, ‘ceptin’ the good-will shown,
  Than ef ’t had ben from fust to last a reg’lar Cotton Loan. 
  It’s a good way, though, come to think, coz ye enjy the sense
  O’ lendin’ lib’rally to the Lord, an’ nary red o’ ’xpense: 
  Sence then I’ve gut my name up for a gin’rous-hearted man
  By jes’ subscribin’ right an’ left on this high-minded plan;
  I’ve gin away my thousans so to every Southun sort
  O’ missions, colleges, an’ sech, ner ain’t no poorer for ’t.

  I warn’t so bad off, arter all; I needn’t hardly mention
  That Guv’ment owed me quite a pile for my arrears o’ pension,—­
  I mean the poor, weak thing we hed:  we run a new one now,
  Thet strings a feller with a claim up tu the nighest bough,
  An’ prectises the rights o’ man, purtects down-trodden debtors,