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DOUGLAS'S LAMENT—[Over the Left.] Air—" Susanna."
As I walked out the other night,
When all around was still, I met a team called " Buck and Breck,"
A jogging down the hill; Steve Douglas sat behind and drove,
A twinkle in his eye, And sotto voce, thus he sang,
" Old Buck, you'd better cry ;
You need n't cry for me, You'll need your salt drops for yourself,
You'll see what you will see."
" My platform swallowed you entire,
Your body, breeches, boots, But ' that's' no sort of consequence,'
As 'twas with Mr. Toots ;" The South don't more than half trust you,
The North your name will scout, And like your Osfcend Circular,
You're bound to fizzle out ! Chorus.—Oh, Buchanan,
I told you how 'twould be, You'll break your neck, both Buck and Breck^
And leave the track for me."
H That drop of Democratic blood,
You squeezed out of your veins, Will hardly pay ' ten cents a day ;'
And' gutta percha canes' Won't help to drive you round the course>
Your Southern wind's unsound ; I'll bet a * dime' the ' Mustang' horse
Will run you c to the ground !'