New Hundred Years Hence

J. H. Johnson, Stationer, 7 North Tenth St., Philadelphia.

New 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 all be forgotten a hundred years hence.

Now there’s Wendell Phillips, who crows it so loud;
He’s head abolitionist, boss of the crowd;
And, through for the nigger his love is intense,
Why, he’ll 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 every effort did make
The Southern pirates to conquer or take,
Our Merchants no longer call for means of defence:
Yet he’ll be forgotten a hundred years hence.

And Johnson 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,
No more strikes ’gainst the flag our fathers upheld:
But a swing from a rope may atone his defense,
And he’ll be forgotten a hundred years hence.

There’s Uncle Sam’s Grant, of our brave Army the boast,
He never complained of the hardships of 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 preserved us a Nation; Our Own Lincoln.
For the Union and Freedom, his heart beat intense.
And he’ll be remembered a Thousand years hence.

Johnson, Song Publisher, No. 7 North Tenth St., Philadelphia.

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