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Jimmy, in his chamber dreary,
Busy darning up his hose, Heard afar those echoes cheery,
Y/hich from gallant Maine arose.
cc Oh ! those dreadful baby wakers, How they fill my soul with fear,
I begin to hear the breakers,
Our old craft is drifting near.
First Iowa democratic,
Always true as steel before, Shakes the house from ground to attic,
With its unexpected roar. Chorus.—
Then Vermont—I thought 'twas thunder, That I heard among the hills.
But my friends revealed the blunder, By the whiteness of their gills. Chorus.—
I expected to be beaten,
On that old Green Mountain height, , But had not dreamed of being eaten
Horns and all, clean out of sight. Chorus.—
Choate, 'twxas said, would surely quiz 'em, And would do the old Whigs brown,
But I find somnambulism
Is an <£ ism " won't go down. Chorus.—
Now, as I sit here despairing, And bewailing my sad fate,