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I vow my holl sheer o' the spiles would n't come
nigh a V spot; Although, most anywares we've ben, you need n't
break no locks, Nor run no kin' o' risks, to fill your pocket full o'
rocks. I ’xpect I mentioned in my last some o' the nateral
feeturs O’ this all-fiered buggy hole in th’ way o' awile
creeturs, But I fergut to name (new things to speak on so
abounded) How one day you 'll most die o' thust, an' 'fore the
next git drownded. The clymit seems to me jest like a teapot made o’
pewter Our Preudence hed, thet would n't pour (all she
could du) to suit her; Fust place the leaves 'ould choke the spout, so 's
not a drop 'ould dreen out, Then Prude 'ould tip an' tip an' tip, till the holl
kit bust clean out, The kiver-hinge-pin bein' lost, tea-leaves an' tea an'
kiver ’ould all come down kerswosh / ez though the dam
bust in a river. Jest so 't is here; holl months there aint a day
o'rainy weather, An' jest ez th' officers 'ould be a layin' heads
together Ez t how they'd mix their drink at sech a miling.
tary deepot, —
'T would pour ez though the lid wuz off the ever
lastin' teapot. The cons’quence is, thet I shall take, wen I'm al
lowed to leave here, One piece o' propaty along, an' thet's the shakin'
fever; It's reggilar employment, though, an' thet aint
thought to harm one, Nor 't aint so tiresome ez it wuz with t' other leg
an' arm on; An' it's a consolation, tu, although it doos n't pay, To hev it said you're some gret shakes in any kin’
'T worn't very long, I tell ye wut, I thought o'
fortin-makin', One day a reg'lar shiver-de-freeze, an' next ez good
ez bakin', One day abrilin' in the sand, then smoth’rin' in the
mashes, — Git up all sound, be put to bed a mess o' hacks an'
smashes. But then, thinks I, at any rate there's glory to be
hed, Thet 's an investment, arter all, thet may n't turn
out so bad; But somehow, wen we'd fit an' licked, I ollers
found the thanks Gut kin' o' lodged afore they come ez low down ez
the ranks; The Gin’rals gut the biggest sheer, the Cunnles
next, an' so on, We never gut a blasted mite o'glory ez I know on; An' spose we hed, I wonder how you're goin' to
contrive its Division so's to give a piece to twenty thousand
privits; Ef you should multiply by ten the portion o' the
brav'st one, You would n't git more 'n half enough to speak of
on a grave-stun; We git the licks, — we're jest the grist thet 's put
into War's hoppers ; Leftenants is the lowest grade thet helps pick up
the coppers. It may suit folks thet go agin a body with a soul
in 't. An' aint contented with a hide without a bagnet
hole in 't ; But glory is a kin' o' thing I sha' n't pursue no fur
der, Coz thet 's the off'cers parquisite, — yourn 's only
jest the murder.
Wal, arter I gin glory up, thinks I at least there 's
Thing in the bills we aint hed yit, an' thet 's the
GLORIOUS FUN; Ef once we git to Mexico, we fairly may persumo
All day an' night shall revel in the halls o' Monte
zumy. I'll tell
an' see how you would like 'em ; We never gut inside the hall: the nighest ever I Wuz stan'in' sentry in the sun (an', fact, it seemed
a cent'ry) A ketchin' smells o' biled an' roast thet come out
thru the entry, An' hearin' ez I sweltered thru my passes an' re
passes, A rat-tat-too o' knives an' forks, a clinkty-clink o'
glasses : I can't tell off the bill o' fare the Gin'rals hed in
All I know is, thet out o' doors a pair o' soles wuz
fried, An' not a hunderd miles away frum ware this child
wuz posted, A Massachusetts citizen wuz baked an' biled an'
roasted; The on'y thing like revellin' thet ever come to me Wuz bein' routed out o’ sleep by thet darned rev
They say the quarrel 's settled now; fer my part
I've some doubt on't, 't'll take more fish-skin than folks think to take
the rile clean out on't; At any rate I'm so used
I can't do no more fightin', The on’y chance thet's left to me is politics or
writin'; Now, ez the people 's gut to hev a milingtary man, An' I aint nothin' else jest now, I've hit upon a
plan; The can'idatin' line, you know, 'ould suit me to
An' ef I lose, ’t wunt hurt my ears to lodge another
So I'll set up ez can'idate fer any kin' o' office, (I mean fer any thet includes good easy-cheers an'
soffies; Fer ez tu runnin' fer a place ware work's the time
o day, You know thet 's wut I never did, - except the
other way ;) Ef it's the Presidential cheer fer wich I'd better
run, Wut two legs anywares about could keep up with
my one ? There aint no kin' o' quality in can'idates, it's
said, So useful ez a wooden leg, - except a wooden
head; There's nothin' aint so poppylar — (wy, it's a
parfect sin To think wut Mexico hez paid fer Santy Anny's
pin ;) – Then I haint gut no princerples, an', sence I wuz
knee-high, I never did hev any gret, ez you can testify; I'm a decided peace-man, tu, an' go agin the
war, Fer now the holl on 't's gone an' past, wut is there
to go for? Ef, wile you ’re 'lectioneerin' round, some curus
chaps should beg To know my views o'state affairs, jest answer