Besides, ther's a wonderful power in latitude To shift a man's morril relations an' attitude; Some flossifers think thet a fakkilty's granted The minnit it's proved to be thoroughly wanted, Thet a change o' demand makes a change o' condition, An' thet everythin' 's nothin' except by position, Ez, fer instance, thet rubber-trees fust begun bearin' Wen p'litikle conshunces come into wearin',-- Thet the fears of a monkey, whose holt chanced to fail, Drawed the vertibry out to a prehensile tail; So, wen one's chose to Congriss, ez soon ez he's in it, A collar grows right round his neck in a minnit, An' sartin it is thet a man cannot be strict In bein' himself, wen he gits to the Deestrict, Fer a coat thet sets wal here in ole Massachusetts, Wen it gits on to Washinton, somehow askew sets. Resolves, do you say, o' the Springfield Convention? Thet's percisely the pint I was goin' to mention; Resolves air a thing we most gen'ally keep ill, They're a cheap kind o' dust fer the eyes o' the people; A parcel o' delligits jest git together An' chat fer a spell o' the crops an' the weather, Then, comin' to order, they squabble awile An' let off the speeches they're ferful 'll spile; Then--Resolve,--Thet we wunt hev an inch o' slave territory; Thet President Polk's holl perceedins air very tory; Thet the war is a damned war, an' them thet enlist in it Should hev a cravat with a dreffle tight twist in it; Thet the war is a war fer the spreadin' o' slavery; Thet our army desarves our best thanks fer their bravery; Thet we're the original friends o' the nation, All the rest air a paltry an' base fabrication; Thet we highly respect Messrs. A, B, an' C, An' ez deeply despise Messrs. E, F, an' G. In this way they go to the eend o' the chapter, An' then they bust out in a kind of a raptur About their own vartoo, an' folks's stone-blindness To the men thet 'ould actilly do 'em a kindness,-- The American eagle,--the Pilgrims thet landed,-- Till on ole Plymouth Rock they git finally stranded. Wal, the people they listen and say, "Thet's the ticket; Ez fer Mexico, t'aint no great glory to lick it, But 't would be a darned shame to go pullin' o' triggers To extend the aree of abusin' the niggers." So they march in percessions, an' git up hooraws, An' tramp thru the mud fer the good o' the cause, An' think they're a kind o' fulfillin' the prophecies, Wen they're on'y jest changin' the holders of offices; Ware A sot afore, B is comf'tably seated, One humbug's victor'ous, an' t' other defeated, Each honnable doughface gits jest wut he axes, An' the people--their annool soft-sodder an' taxes.