"I'll to the South," said Cavalier, "I'll to the South," said he; "I'll to the North," said Puritan, "The North's the land for me." Each took a flag, each left a tear To good old Uncle Sam; He kissed the boys, he kissed the flags, And, doleful, sung a psalm. And in a go-cart Puritan His worldly goods did lay; With wife and gun and dog and ax, He, singing, went his way. Of buckskin was his Sunday suit, His wife wore linsey-jeans; And fat they grew, like porpoises, On hoe-cake, pork, and beans. But Cavalier a Cockney was; He talked French and Latin; Every day he wore broadcloth, While his wife wore satin. He went off in a painted ship-- In glory he did go; A thousand niggers up aloft, A thousand down below. The towns were built, as I've heard said; Their likes were never seen; They filled the North, they filled the South, They filled the land between. "The Lord be praised!" said Puritan; "Bully!" said Cavalier; "There's room and town-lots in the West, If there isn't any here." Out to the West they journeyed then, And in a quarrel got; One said 't was his, he knew it was, The other said 't was not. One drew a knife, a pistol t' other, And dreadfully they swore; From Northern lake to Southern gulf Wild rang the wordy roar. All the time good old Uncle Sam Sat by his fireside near, Smokin' of his kinnikinnick, And drinkin' lager-beer. He laughed and quaffed, and quaffed and laughed, Nor thought it worth his while, Until the storm in fury burst On Sumter's sea-girt isle. O'er the waves to the smoking fort, When came the dewy dawn, To see the flag he looked--and lo! _Eleven stars were gone!_ "My pretty, pretty stars," he cried, And down did roll a tear. "I've got your stars, old Fogy Sam, Ha, ha!" laughed Cavalier. "I've got your stars in my watch-fob; Come take them if you dare!" And Uncle Sam he turned away, Too full of wrath to swear. "Let thunder all the drums!" he cried, While swelled his soul, like Mars; "A million Northern boys I'll get To bring me home my stars." And on his mare, stout Betsey Jane, To Northside town he flew; The dogs they barked, the bells did ring, And countless bugles blew. "My stolen stars!" cried Uncle Sam, "My stolen stars!" cried he, "A million soldiers I must have To bring them back to me." "Dry up your tears, good Uncle Sam; Dry up!" said Puritan, "We'll bring you home your stolen stars, Or perish every man!" And at the words a million rose, All ready for the fray; And columns formed, like rivers deep, And Southward marched away. * * * * *