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UNCLE SAM'S BOSS FARMER. Tune.—" Old Dog Tray."
Says Uncle Sam to me,
I'm in a quandary, I want a good boss to manage my affairs.
Says I to Uncle Sam,
I know the very man Who'll quietly put an end to your cares.
John C. Fremont is the man, sir,
He'll soon quiet your alarm, He's faithful and he's true, And you'll never, never rue
The day you make him boss of your farm.
Says he, the man I've got
Was never worth a jot To be fit for the place he never did begin,
He's kicked up such a row,
And to stop it don't know how, That he's turned out worse than he came in,
(Says I,) John C. Fremont is the man, sir, &c. &c.
Says he, there's Platform Jeems,
But he's not himself it seems, He says he is a plank, and nothing else, you know
I want no wooden man,
They're only useful when You (k)need a batch of soft northern dough.
(Says I,) John C. Fremont is the man, sir. &c. &c.
Says he, there's one I tried
When good old Taylor died, But he made a saucy speech the other day, you know,
And I mean to have my way,
And 1 mean to have my say, And I tell him all his threats are " no go."
(Says I,) John C Fremont is the man, sir, &c. &c.