The Broker's "Stamp Act" Lament
The Broker’s “Stamp Act” Lament.
Each one we meet upon the street,
With trouble sore is sighing:
They tell us stocks are falling,
And McClellan still is flying,
The times are getting worse and worse,
Each day brings fresh disasters;
And yesterday to crown the rest,
These horrid sticking plasters.
Shin-plasters sure were bad enough,
That is when Rebels used them;
And well the Nigger-worshippers,
In consequence abused them,
But now to cap the climax, of
Our manifold disasters,
We’ve had to come to one and two
And three cent sticking plasters.
What next I wonder? Nigger troops
Or some such abomination;
As Niggers being our equals in
The states and in the nation,
Lord save the South from Liberty (?)
“Beast Butler” and his masters!
From one and two, and three cent stamps,
Add all such nation blasters!