That's What's the Matter
That’s What’s The Matter.
They say Johnny Bull is sending
To our coast his little fleet,
He had better keep them all at home,
For they’ll soon have to retreat.
If he’s forgot the lesson
He received at Bunker Hill,
He will find he’ll have to swallow
Such another bitter pill.
We got 50,000 dollars,
Easy, but the other day,
From a son of the Palmetto,
With the Rebel Army’s pay.
He tried to dodge the payment,
But our boys they found him out;
And when he saw the Northern bayonet,
Then for quarter he did shout.—
They say the South is frightened,
They are shaking all with fear;
Old Beauregard’s the ague,
His Master Jeff the Diarrhoea.
But we’ll give them physic gently,
We will quiet all their fears;
They will get it from the muskets,
Of our noble Volunteers.—
The Harriet Lane the other day,
A skirmish had you know;
And all the Northern papers say,
That well she drubbed the foe.
Of course the Rebels were not licked,
At least that’s what they said;
But then it took an hour at least,
To carry off their dead.—
King Cotton cannot rule again,
That game is play’d out here,
As long as we’ve a Northern man,
To march as a Volunteer.
They have swindled Uncle Sam enough,
Since the days of seventy-six;
But now we’ve got them where we want,
In a tarnation fix.—