The Biglow papers

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John Camden Hotten, 1861 - Drama - 200 pages
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Page 55 - We were gittin' on nicely up here to our village, With good old idees o' wut's right an' wut aint, We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage, An' thet eppyletts worn't the best mark of a saint; But John P. Robinson he Sez this kind o
Page 29 - re agoin' to git your right, Nor by lookin' down on black folks Coz you 're put upon by wite ; Slavery aint o' nary color, Taint the hide thet makes it wus, All it keers fer in a feller 'S jest to make him fill its pus. Want to tackle me in, du ye? I expect...
Page 207 - Magna Charta. An Exact Facsimile of the Original Document in the British Museum, printed on fine plate paper, nearly 3 feet long by 2 feet wide, with the Arms and Seals emblazoned in Gold and Colours. Price 5s. The Roll of Battle Abbey...
Page 100 - 11 keep the people in blindness, — • Thet we the Mexicuns can thrash Right inter brotherly kindness, Thet bombshells, grape, an' powder 'n' ball Air good-will's strongest magnets, Thet peace, to make it stick at all, Must be druv in with bagnets. In short, I firmly du believe In Humbug generally, Fer it 'aa thing thet I perceive To hev a solid vally ; This heth my faithful shepherd ben, In pasturs sweet heth led me, An' this '11 keep the people green To feed ez they hev fed me.
Page 32 - In the days o' seventy-six. Clang the bells in every steeple, Call all true men to disown The tradoocers of our people, The enslavers o' their own ; 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 '11 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 traiter, Jest ez suits your mean idees, — Here I stand a tyrant-hater, An
Page 97 - 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 extravygunt, — 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 68 - I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and seeks her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for not without dust and heat.
Page 55 - s ben true to one party — an' thet is himself. So John P. Robinson he Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. Gineral C. he goes in fer the war ; He don't vally principle more 'n an old cud ; Wut did God make us raytional creeturs fer, But glory an' gunpowder, plunder an
Page 27 - Ez fer war, I call it murder, — There you hev it plain an' flat; I don't want to go no furder Than my Testyment fer that; God hez sed so plump an' fairly, It's ez long ez it is broad, An' you've gut to git up airly Ef you want to take in God.
Page 56 - Sez they're nothin' on airth but jest fee, faw, fum: An thet all this big talk of our destinies Is half on it ign'ance, an' t'other half rum; But John P. Robinson he Sez it aint no sech thing; an' of course, so must we. 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...

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