(Van Der Weyde)
Says Captain Robb to Farmer Cobb, "Your farm is very fine, sir
Please give me up your title deeds, I claim it all as mine,Sir!
"Pray how can it be thine?" says Cobb, "I'm sure I never sold it
'Twas left me by my father, sir, I only ought to hold it."
"Nay, Cobb; the march of destiny-'Tis strange you don't perceive it
Is sure to make it mine, some day; I solemnly believe it."
"But have you not already got more land than you can till, Sir!
More rocks than you can ever blast! More weeds than you can kill, Sir"
"Aye, Cobb, but something whispers me A sort of inspiration-
That I've a right to ev'ry farm Not under cultivation.
I'm of the Angle Saxon race, A people known to fame, Sir;
But you--what right have you to land? Whoever heard your name, Sir!
"I deem you, Cobb, a lazy lout, poor, trodden-down, and blind, Sir;
And if I take your useless land, You ought to think it kind, Sir!
And with my scientific skill, I set it down as true, Sir,
That I can gather from the farm full twice as much as you, Sir."
"To be explicit: 'Tis an age of freedom and progression
No longer, dog-in-manger-like can you retain possession.
The farm long since you forfeited because you failed to till it
To me, it clearly now belongs, simply because I will it!"
"My logic, if you disapprove, or fail of comprehending,
Or do not feel convinc'd that I your welfare am intending
I've plenty more of arguments to which I can resort, Sir;
Six-shooters, rifles, Bowie knives will indicate the sort, sir."
"So prithee, Cobb, take my advice make over your domains, sir,
Or, sure as I am Captain Robb Will I blow out your brains, sir."
Poor Cobb can only grind his teeth and grumble protestations
That might should be the rule of right among enlightened nations.
From Flashes of Merriment, Levy