So Tom started off in pursuit of assistance, And leisurely walking a very short distance, Turned, paused to reflect, then addressed her: 'My dear, My conscience upbraids me concerning this bear; A very great doubt has arisen in my mind-- I am not quite sure--but am rather inclined, Indeed--I may say--I have reached the conclusion That bears have been made a Divine Institution; This is plainly deduced from the Scriptures of truth, Which frightened me much in the days of my youth, With the story of forty of ages quite tender, Torn to strings by two gears of the feminine gender: And not only so, but you see, Mistress Julia, This same institution is very 'peculiar;' I found it somewhat inconvenient to hold, (The cubs are quite harmless, but this one is old,) He is gentle at first, but as muscle increases, Shows some disposition to tear one in pieces. Then hold him the tighter, and keep up good heart, As it's all in the family, you'll do your part.' Tom closed his oration with actions to suit, Then went to his house, where the reprobate brute Whipped the children and kicked his old mother out-door, Got tipsy as Bacchus and rolled on the floor, While his wife held the bear, fast tied to the spot, And how long she staid there, deponent says not. * * * * * Secesh has a bear, and has had many years, At first, a mere pet, he engendered no fears; But now he's grown strong and can fight like a major, And has like his master become an old stager; He has taught him to work, and has trained him to fight, Adding strength to his hands and increasing his might; Albeit if _free_ he would turn on his master, Who knows it full well, and hence holds him the faster; But not only so, he insists _we_ shall help While he fights to destroy us, at holding his whelp! And strangely enough, we obey his command, While he strikes at our vitals and plunders the land! He has murdered the son and led captive the brother, Has broke up the home and made war on his mother; And now while our sons by the thousand are slain The nation to save and its life to maintain, When the patriot's eyelids are closing in death, While a prayer for his country inspires his last breath, Or bleeding he lies as the foul traitor's dart Is caught in the folds of the flag round his heart, While freedom's bright bow, for the millions unborn, No longer encircles the brow of the storm, While the sun of our glory grows dim in our sight, And the star of our destiny's shrouded in night; Still our paralyzed hands, to our country untrue, Are stretched out to _succor_ the traitorous crew, As they strike for our lives, fully bent on our ruin, _We_ lend them assistance by holding their Bruin, And tell all the world that our national wars Shall be waged to protect _constitutional bears_.