Them thet rule us, them slave-traders, Hain't they cut a thunderin' swath (Helped by Yankee renegaders), Thru the vartu o' the North! We begin to think it's natur To take sarse an' not be riled-- Who'd expect to see a tater All on eend at bein' biled? Ez fer war, I call it murder-- There you hev it plain an' flat; I don't want to go no furder Than my Testament fer that; God hez sed so plump an' fairly, It's ez long ez it is broad, An' you've gut to git up airly Ef you want to take in God. 'Tain't your eppyletts an' feathers Make the thing a grain more right; 'Tain't a-follerin' your bell-wethers Will excuse ye in His sight; Ef you take a sword an' dror it, An' go stick a feller thru, Guv'ment ain't to answer for it, God'll send the bill to you. Wut's the use o' meetin'-goin' Every Sabbath, wet or dry, Ef it's right to go a-mowin' Feller-men like oats an' rye? I dunno but wut it's pooty Trainin' round in bobtail coats-- But it's curus Christian dooty This 'ere cuttin' folks's throats. They may talk o' Freedom's airy Tell they're pupple in the face-- It's a grand gret cemetary Fer the barthrights of our race; They jest want this Californy So's to lug new slave States in To abuse ye, an' to scorn ye, An' to plunder ye like sin. Ain't it cute to see a Yankee Take sech everlastin' pains, All to git the Devil's thankee Helpin' on 'em weld their chains? Wy, it's jest ez clear ez figgers, Clear ez one an' one make two, Chaps thet make black slaves o' niggers Want to make wite slaves o' you. Tell ye jest the eend I've come to Arter cipherin' plaguy smart, An' it makes a handy sum, tu, Any gump could larn by heart; Laborin' man an' laborin' woman Hev one glory an' one shame. Ev'ythin' thet's done inhuman Injers all on 'em the same. 'Tain't by turnin' out to hack folks You're agoin' to git your rights Nor by lookin' down on black folks Coz you're put upon by wite; Slavery ain't o' nary color, 'Tain't the hide thet makes it wus, All it keers fer is a feller 'S jest to make him fill his pus. Want to tackle _me_ in, du ye? I expect you'll hev to wait; Wen cold lead puts daylight thru ye You'll begin to kal'late; S'pose the crows wun't fall to pickin' All the carkiss from your bones, Coz you helped to give a lickin' To them poor half-Spanish drones? Jest go home an' ask our Nancy Wether I'd be sech a goose Ez to jine ye--guess you'd fancy The etarnal bung wuz loose! She wants me fer home consumption, Let alone the hay's to mow-- Ef you're arter folks o' gumption, You've a darned long row to hoe.