The Capture of Jeff Davis


H. DE MARSAN, Publisher, 60 Chatham Street, New-York.

The Capture of Jeff Davis

Poor Jeff’s career is at an end;
He was quickly overtaken,
On his way to that Sequestered Spot,
Where he ran to save his bacon.
When he heard of Bobby Lee’s mischap,
He jumped into the saddle:
And for the shores of Mexico,
He made a grand skedaddle.

This pink of Southern Chivalry,
Head of a defunct nation,
Whom nothing else would satisfy,
But freedom or extermination:
When he saw a squad of Northern Yanks
Coming close behind, sirs,
He threw off his masculine attire
For his wife’s crinoline, sirs.

Then he made tracks for the woods,
Closely followed by the guard, sirs;
For, Samuel’s boys made up their minds
To take the big reward, sirs.
His identity was clear enough,
When, through the woods, he’d scoot, sirs
The dress, being short, exposed to view
A pair of spurs and boots, sirs.

Of pride, oh! what a fall was there..
After all Jeff’s idle vaunting:
He’d dictate peace on Bunker-Hill,
The Stars and Bars a flaunting!
But he tried the courage of the North,
And never knew them falter
But now he’ll try another tie..
A Yankee hempen halter!

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