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Oh, ye gentlemen issuing- rations, Give at least half her own to the State,
Put a curb on your maddening- passions, And, commissaries—commiserate !
Chorus.
Tell me not of the Lacedaemonian,
Of his black broth and savage demeanor, We keep up a fare less Plutonian,
Yet I'd swear our corn coffee is meaner! Tell me nothing of ancients and strangers,
For, on seeing our Southern-bred Catos, I have laugh'd at old Marion's Rangers,
Who feasted on roasted potatoes!
Chorus.
Ere while we had chicken and roasters,
For the fowls and pigs were ferocious, We would send them to shoot Pater Nosters,
And the deed was not stamped as atrocious ; But since we have been shot for the same,
We parch corn—it is healthier, but tougher— The chickens and pigs have got tame,
But the horses and mules have to suffer.
Chorus.
But the " corn-fed " is proof to all evils,
Has a joke for all hardships and troubles, In honor and glory he revels,
Other fancies he looks on as bubbles! He is bound to be free, and he knows it,
Then what cares he for toil and privation! He is brave, and in battle he shows it,
And will conquer in spite of starvation!
Chorus. |
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