Thou, taught by Fate to know Jehovah's plan An' whose free latch-string never was drawed in Jest here some dogs begun to bark, So thet I lost old Concord's last remark: Was dead leaves gossipin' on some birch trees near; But ez they hed n't no gret things to say, An' sed 'em often, I come right away, An', walkin' home'ards, jest to pass the time, I put some thoughts thet bothered me in rhyme ; I hain't hed time to fairly try 'em on, But here they be—it's JONATHAN TO JOHN Ir don't seem hardly right, John, To stump me to a fight, John, Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I Thet's fit for you an' me!" You wonder why we 're hot, John? Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess Ef I turned mad dogs loose, John, Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, I on'y guess," sez he, "Thet ef Vattel on his toes fell, "T would kind o' rile J. B., Ez wal ez you an' me!" Who made the law thet hurts, John, "J. B." was on his shirts, John, Onless my memory fails. Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess (I'm good at thet)," sez he, "Thet sauce for goose ain't jest the juice For ganders with J. B., No more 'n with you or me!" When your rights was our wrongs, John, You did n't stop for fuss, Britanny's trident prongs, John, 66 guess, Though physic's good," sez he, "It does n't foller thet he can swaller Prescriptions signed ‘J. B.,' Put up by you an' me!" We own the ocean, tu, John: You mus' n' take it hard, Ef we can't think with you, John, It's jest your own back-yard. Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, Ef thet's his claim," sez he, "The fencin'-stuff 'll cost enough To bust up friend J. B., Ez wal ez you an' me!" Why talk so dreffle big, John, He's like the rest," sez he: "When all is done, it's number one Thet's nearest to J. B., Ez wal ez t' you an' me!" We give the critters back, John, Cos Abram thought 't was right; It warn't your bullyin' clack, John, Provokin' us to fight. Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess Ez wal ez you an' me!" We ain't so weak an' poor, John, "The surest plan to make a Man Our folks believe in Law, John; The anvil an' the plough. Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess, Ef 't warn't for law," sez he, "There 'd be one shindy from here to Indy; An' thet don't suit J. B. (When 't ain't 'twixt you an' me!)" We know we've got a cause, John, We thought 't would win applause, John, Ef nowheres else, from you. Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I His love of right,” sez he, guess 66 Hangs by a rotten fibre o' cotton: Ez wal 'z in you an' me!" The South says, "Poor folks down!" John, An'" All men up!" say we, White, yaller, black, an' brown, John: Now which is your idee? Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, "But, sermon thru, an' come to du, A crowdin' you an' me!" Shall it be love, or hate, John? Ain't your bonds held by Fate, John, Like all the world's beside? Wise men forgive," sez he, "But not forgit; an' some time yit Thet truth may strike J. B., Ez wal ez you an' me!" God means to make this land, John, Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, God's price is high," sez he; "But nothin' else than wut He sells Wears long, an' thet J. B. |