64. LXIV.
WAILETH MUCHLY.
Church uv the Noo Dispensashun, }
September the 15th, 1864.
The follerin sam uv hoomiliashen and agony
will be chantid in every Church in my dioceese, all
day, evry Sundy, until the Confedrits win a victry:
A DOUBLE-BARRELD WALE!—A CRY UV ANGISH!
In the valley and shadder sit we!
Job hed biles, but he scraped hisself with a
oyster-shell!
Naman wuz a leper, but he doved into the Jordan,
and cum out ez good ez new!
Sampson hed his hair shingled and wuz week
as waterd whisky, but it growd agin, and he busted
his enemies!
We hev biles and are rotten with em, but
where 's the comfortin oyster-shell?
We hev leprussy, but where 's the Jordan to
jump into?
Our hair is short, and thar's whar our enemies
hev got us, but whar 's the restorative to make it
grow agin?
Job, and Naman, and Sampson, altogether,
wuz n't as bad off ez we is.
We kin throw in Lazzyrus with his sores, and
the dorgs a lickin uv em, and then give em 50 in
a 100 and beat em.
For we nominatid Micklellan and Pendleton, at
Shecago, and wun is a war man and tother is a
peese man.
The ox and the ass is yoked—their heads and
tails together.
And the teem is pullin viggerusly, but instid
uv goin forerd, it 's goin round and round.
Wale! O my peeple, for the ticket wuz n't war
enuff, and Cass hez bolted!
Gnash yer teeth! O ye saints, for the tickit
wuz n't peese enuff, and Vallandigum hez bolted!
We tried 2 ride two hosses, goin in 2 diffrent
direckshuns, and we fell to the ground.
And both hosses turned on us and kicked us.
And Micklellan hez no chance—he won't hev
the givin uv the post-offises. Wah![1]
And Sherman took Atlanta, and chawd up
Hood! Wah!
And Lee wants the Weldon road, but he can't
git it. Wah!
And Gov. Morton took the revolvers from the
peece men uv Injeany. Wah!
And the draft won't be resisted, and the provo
marshels will hev whole skins. Wah!
Wale! For Maine and Vermont, wich wuz
tired uv the war, and wuz a goin for Micklellan,
hev voted Ablishn with a loosenis.
Wale! For our rulers oppress us. They let
their men vote in the army, but won't let our
men vote in Canady! Wah!
Wale! For the Ablishnists shel hold the orfises,
and we shel be numbered among the outs! Wah!
Wale! For in the fucher I see no way uv livin
but by work!
Why wuz I born in2 sich a world! Why wuz
whisky created, ef yoo can't git it without a price?
Why wuz orfisis establisht, ef them can't git em
ez wants em the most?
Micklellan buried his thousands in the swamps
uv the Chickahominy—he hath buried his tens of
thousands under the platform he kicked over!
The Ablishnists jeer us, and flout us; they wag
their heds at us, sayin, “Go up, bald hed!”
And we hev gone up!
Petroleum V. Nasby,
Paster uv sed Church, in charge.
