TO ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

On his Demand for Three Hundred Thousand Men.

 

We're coming, Father Abraäm, we're coming all along,
But don't you think you're coming it yourself a little strong?
Three hundred thousand might be called a pretty tidy figure,
We've nearly sent you white enough, why don't you take the nigger?

Consider, Father Abraäm, and give the thing a thought,
This war has just attained four times the longitude it ought;
And all the bills at Ninety Days as you have draw'd so free,
Have been dishonored, Abraäm, as punctual as could be.

We've fought, old Father Abraäm, and fought uncommon bold,
And gained amazing victories, or so at least we're told;
And having whipped the rebels for a twelvemonth and a day,
we nearly found 'em liquoring in Washington, in May.

Now, really, Father Abraäm, this here's the extra ounce,
And we are almost sick, you see, of such almighty bounce;
We ain't afraid of being killed at proper times and seasons,
But it's aggravating to be killed for Mac's strategic reasons.

If you'd be so obliging, Father Abraäm, as to write
To any foreign potentate, and put the thing polite,
And make him loan a General as knows the way to lead,
We'd come and list. Jerusalem and snakes! we would indeed.

But as the matter stands, Old Abe, we've this opinion, some,
If you say Come, as citizens of course we're bound to come,
But then we want to win, you see: if Strategy prevents,
We wish you'd use the nigger for these here experiments.

Hereditary bondsman, he should just be made to know
He'd convenience us uncommon if he'd take and strike a blow.
The man as will not fight for freedom isn't worth a cuss,
And it's better using niggers up than citizens like us.

So, Father Abraäm, if you please, in this here game of chess,
You'd better take the black men against the white, I guess,
And if you work the niggers off before rebellion's slain,
Which surely ain't expectable--apply to us again.--Punch