A Hundred Years Hence

H. DE MARSAN, Publisher, 54 Chatham Street, New-York.

A Hundred Years Hence.

We meet, through this world, with men of all kinds,
Of opposite fancies and different minds;
There are some men of merit, some men of pretence,
But they’ll be all forgotten a hundred years hence.

Now, there’s Wendell Phillips, who crows it so loud;
He’s head-abolitionist boss of the crowd;
And, though for the nigger his love is intense.
Why, he will be forgotten a hundred years hence.

There’s Chase has been filling the land with Green-Backs,
Besides on the people they’ve placed a big tax;
The expenses of war, you all know, are immense:
But he’ll be forgotten a hundred years hence.

Gideon Welles, of the Navy, no effort does make
The Southern pirates to conquer or take,
While our merchants are calling for means of defence:
But he’ll be forgotten a hundred years hence.

Abe Lincoln is going it with a strong hand,
But still he’s our ruler, and by him we’ll stand;
Let us hope in the end he may prove he has sense:
For, he’ll be forgotten a hundred years hence.

The Rebel Jeff Davis, with arrogance swelled,
Now strikes ’gainst the Flag that our fathers upheld!
But a swing from a rope may atone his defence.
And he’ll be forgotten a hundred years hence.

There’s little McClellan, of our Army the boast,
He never complained when removed from his post—
The brave deeds he done, bring their own recompense.
He won’t be forgotten a hundred years hence.

There’s One whose bright fame shall for ever live on,
He made us a Nation: Our own Washington.
For the Union and Freedom his heart beat intense,
And he’ll be remembered a thousand years hence.

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