I Am Not Sick, I'm over Forty-five
I am not Sick, I’m over Forty-five,
I’m exempt, I’m exempt, I vow and declare
I’m exempt, I’m exempt, from the “draft” I will swear,
What, though the rebels our soil may invade,
And wipe out each general of pick-axe and spade?
Oh! What do I care though a million are slain;
And our starry-gemmed banner is tramped on the plain?
Oh! What do I care, who may fall or may thrive,
I’m exempt, I’m exempt, I’m o’re forty-five!
Oh! What do I care, what my neighbors may say,
That I’ve jumped o’er ten years in less than a day?
Oh! what do I care for my nation and laws?
I heed not her shame, I seek not applause;
But still for the Almighty Dollar I’ll drive,
I’m exempt, I’m exempt, I’m o’er forty-five!
I always was healthy from heel unto nobe,
But now I have troubles as many as Job;
You may wink and may sneer, and say “it’s all gas,”
That such a lame “HO’SE with the doctors won’t pass:
But I’m aches, I’m pains, from the head to the toe,
I’m exempt, I’m exempt, from the draft, you must know!
I’m free to confess that I find greater charms,
In a trip to England, than taking up arms;
I’m off, I’m off, with the very first train,
And when the war’s over I’ll come back again:
You call me a sneak—I heed not your twaddle,
I’m exempt I’m exempt, I mean to skedaddle!