The Biglow Papers

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Ticknor and Fields, 1866 - Mexican War, 1846-1848 - 175 pages
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Page 34 - B. is a sensible man; He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks; He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can, An' into nobody's tater-patch pokes; — But John P. Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. My! aint it terrible? Wut shall we du? We can't never choose him, o...
Page 62 - There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'. The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser.
Page 77 - An' me to recommend a man The place 'ould jest about fit. I du believe in special ways O' prayin' an' convartin'; The bread comes back in many days, An' buttered, tu, fer sartin ; I mean in preyin' till one busts On wut the party chooses, An' in convartin' public trusts To very privit uses.
Page 36 - Parson Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats, An" marched round in front of a drum an' a fife, To git some on "em office, an' some on 'em votes; But John P.
Page 2 - Rooster's tales stuck onto his hat and eenamost enuf brass a bobbin up and down on his shoulders and figureed onto his coat and trousis, let alone wut nater hed sot in his featers, to make a 6 pounder out on. wal, Hosea he com home considerabal riled, and arter I'd gone to bed I heern Him a thrashin round like a shorttailed Bull in fli-time.
Page 35 - Polk, you know, he is our country; An' the angel thet writes all our sins in a book Puts the debit to him, an' to us the per contty, An' John P. Robinson he Sez this is his view o
Page 48 - I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat.
Page 67 - An' the slaves thet we oilers make the most out on Air them north o' Mason an' Dixon's line," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he ; — " Fer all thet," sez Mangum, '"T would be better to hang 'em, An' so git red on 'em soon," sez he. "The mass ough' to labor an' we lay on soffies, Thet 'a the reason I want to spread Freedom's aree ; It puts all the cunninest on us in office, An' reelises our Maker's orig'nal idee,
Page 75 - sa kind o' thing Thet don't agree with niggers. I du believe the people want A tax on teas an' coffees, Thet nothin' aint extra vygunt, — Purvidin' I 'm in office ; Fer I hev loved my country sence My eye-teeth filled their sockets, An' Uncle Sam I reverence, Partic'larly his pockets.
Page 10 - Let our dear old Bay State proudly Put the trumpet to her mouth, Let her ring this messidge loudly In the ears of all the South: — 'I'll return ye good fer evil Much ez we frail mortils can But I wun't go help the Devil Makin' man the cus o' man; Call me coward, call me trailer, Jest ez suits your mean idees, — Here I stand a tyrant-hater, An' the friend o' God an

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