It may suit folks thet go agin, a body with a soul in 't, An' ain't contented with a hide without a bagnet hole

in 't;

But glory is a kin' o' thing I shan't pursue no furder, Coz thet's the off'cers parquisite, - yourn's on'y jest the murder.

Wal, arter I gin glory up, thinks I at least there's

one

Thing in the bills we ain't hed yit, an' thet 's the GLORIOUS FUN;

Ef once we git to Mexico, we fairly may persume we All day an' night shall revel in the halls o' Montezumy. I'll tell ye wut my revels wuz, an' see how you would like 'em ;

We never gut inside the hall: the nighest ever I come 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' repasses, 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 inside; 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 only thing like revellin' thet ever come to me

Wuz bein' routed out o' sleep by thet darned revelee.

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 up 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 ain't nothin' else jest now, I've hit upon a plan;

The can'idatin' line, you know, 'ould suit me to a T, An' ef I lose, 't wun't hurt my ears to lodge another Alea;

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,

way);

except the other

Ef it's the Presidential cheer fer wich I'd better

run,

Wut two legs anywares about could keep up with my

one?

There ain't no kin' o' quality in can'idates, it's said, So useful ez a wooden leg, — except a wooden head; There's nothin' ain't so poppylar (wy, it's a parfect

sin

To think wut Mexico hez paid fer Santy Anny's pin);

Then I hain't gut no princerples, an', sence I wuz knee-high,

I never did hev any gret, ez you can testify;