With a beard that was filthy and red, His mouth with tobacco bespread [sic], Abe Lincoln sat in the gay white house, A wishing that he was dead - Swear! Swear! Swear! Till his tongue was blistered o'er, Then in a voice not very strong; He slowly whined the Despot's song;
Lie! Lie! Lie! I've lied like the very deuce! Lie! Lie! Lie! As long as lies were of use; But now that lies no longer pay, I know not where to turn, For when I the truth would say, My tongue with lies will burn!
Drink - Drink - Drink! Till my head feels very queer! Drink - Drink - Drink Till I get rid of all fear! Brandy, and Whiskey, and Gin, Sherry, and Champagne, and Pop, I tipple, I guzzle, I suck'em [sic] all in, Till down dead drunk I drop.
Think - Think - Think! Till my head is very sore! Think - Think - Think! Till I could'nt [sic] think any more; And its [sic] oh! to be splitting of rails, Back in my Illinois hut, For now that every thing fails, I would of my office be "shut!"
Jeff! Jeff! Jeff! To you as a suppliant I kneel! Jeff! Jeff! Jeff! If you could my horrors feel; You'd submit at discretion, And kindly give in, To all my oppression, My weakness and sin!
Baltimore, March., 15, 1862. "Ole Secesh."
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