Jeff's _some_. He's gut another plan thet hez pertic'lar merits, In givin' things a cherfle look an' stiffnin' loose-hung sperits; For while your million papers, wut with lyin' an' discussin', Keep folks's tempers all on eend a-fumin' an' a-fussin', A-wondrin' this an' guessin' thet, an' dreadin', every night, The breechin' o' the Univarse'll break afore it's light, Our papers don't purtend to print on'y wut Guv'ment choose, An' thet insures us all to git the very best o' noose: Jeff hez it of all sorts an' kines, an' sarves it out ez wanted, So's't every man gits wut he likes an' nobody ain't scanted; Sometimes it's vict'ries, (they're 'bout all ther' is thet's cheap down here,) Sometimes it's France an' England on the jump to interfere. Fact is, the less the people know o' wut ther' is a-doin', The hendier 't is for Guv'ment, sence it henders trouble brewin'; An' noose is like a shinplaster,--it's good, ef you believe it, Or, wut's all same, the other man thet's goin' to receive it: Ef you've a son in th' army, wy, it's comfortin' to hear He'll hev no gretter resk to run than seein' th' in'my's rear, Coz, ef an F.F. looks at 'em, they ollers break an' run, Or wilt right down ez debtors will thet stumble on a dun (An' this, ef an'thin', proves the wuth o' proper fem'ly pride, Fer sech mean shucks ez creditors are all on Lincoln's side); Ef I hev scrip thet wun't go off no more 'n a Belgin rifle, An' read thet it's at par on 'Change, it makes me feel deli'fle; It's cheerin', tu, where every man mus' fortify his bed, To hear thet Freedom's the one thing our darkies mos'ly dread, An' thet experunce, time 'n' agin, to Dixie's Land hez shown Ther' 's nothin' like a powder-cask f'r a stiddy corner-stone; Ain't it ez good ez nuts, when salt is sellin' by the ounce For its own weight in Treash'ry-bons, (ef bought in small amounts,) When even whiskey's gittin' skurce, an' sugar can't be found, To know thet all the ellerments o' luxury abound? An' don't it glorify sal'-pork, to come to understand It's wut the Richmon' editors call fatness o' the land? Nex' thing to knowin' you're well off is _nut_ to know when y' ain't; An' ef Jeff says all's goin' wal, who'll ventur' t' say it ain't?