Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838–1915). Yale Book of American Verse. 1912.
James Russell Lowell 18191891
James Russell Lowell125 What Mr. Robinson Thinks
G
He stays to his home an’ looks arter his folks;
He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can,
An’ into nobody’s tater-patch pokes;
But John P.
Robinson he
Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B.
We can’t never choose him o’ course,—thet ’s flat; Guess we shall hev to come round, (don’t you?) An’ go in fer thunder an’ guns, an’ all that; Fer John P. Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. He ’s ben on all sides thet give places or pelf; But consistency still wuz a part of his plan,— He ’s ben true to one party,—an’ thet is himself;— So John P. Robinson he Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. He don’t vally princerple more ’n an old cud; Wut did God make us raytional creeturs fer, But glory an’ gunpowder, plunder an’ blood? So John P. Robinson he Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. With good old idees o’ wut ’s right an’ wut aint, We kind o’ thought Christ went agin war an’ pillage, An’ thet eppyletts worn’t the best mark of a saint; But John P. Robinson he Sez this kind o’ thing ’s an exploded idee. An’ Presidunt Polk, you know, he is our country. An’ the angel thet writes all our sins in a book Puts the debit to him, an’ to us the per contry; An’ John P. Robinson he Sez this is his view o’ the thing to a T. Sez they ’re nothin’ on airth but jest fee, faw, fum; An’ thet all this big talk of our destinies Is half on it ign’ance, an’ t’ other half rum; But John P. Robinson he Sez it aint no sech thing; an’, of course, so must we. Thet th’ Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats, An’ marched round in front of a drum an’ a fife, To git some on ’em office, an’ some on ’em votes; But John P. Robinson he Sez they did n’t know everythin’ down in Judee. The rights an’ the wrongs o’ these matters, I vow,— God sends country lawyers, an’ other wise fellers, To start the world’s team wen it gits in a slough; Fer John P. Robinson he Sez the world ’ll go right, ef he hollers out Gee!