Each torn flag wavin' chellenge ez it

went,

An' each dumb gun a brave man's moniment,

Than seek sech peace ez only cowards

crave:

Give me the peace of dead men or of brave!

THE MONIMENT.

I say, ole boy, it ain't the Glorious Fourth:

You'd oughto larned 'fore this wut talk wuz worth.

ain't our nose thet gits put out o' jint;

It's England thet gives up her dearest pint.

We've gut, I tell ye now, enough to

du

In our own fem'ly fight, afore we're thru.

I hoped, las' spring, jest arter Sumter's shame,

When every flagstaff flapped its tethered flame,

An' all the people, startled from their doubt,

Come must rin' to the flag with sech a shout,

I hoped to see things settled 'fore this fall,

The

Rebbles licked, Jeff Davis hanged, an' all; Then come Bull Run, an' sence then I've ben waitin'

Like boys in Jennooary thaw for skatin',

Nothin' to du but watch my shadder's trace

Swing, like a ship at anchor, roun' my base,

With daylight's flood an' ebb: it's gitting slow,

An' I'most think we'd better let 'em

go.

I tell ye wut, this war's agoin to

cost

THE BRIDGE.

An' I tell you it wun't be money lost; We wun't give up afore the ship goes down:

It's a stiff gale, but Providence wun't drown;