Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
He's like the rest,' sez he: 60
'When all is done, it's number one
Thet's nearest to J.B.,
Ez wal ez t' you an' me!'

We give the critters back, John,
Cos Abram thought 'twas right;
It warn't your bullyin' clack, John,
Provokin' us to fight.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
We've a hard row,' sez he,
'To hoe jest now; but thet, somehow, 70
May happen to J.B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!'

We ain't so weak an' poor, John,
With twenty million people.
An' close to every door, John,
A school-house an' a steeple.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess,
It is a fact,' sez he,
'The surest plan to make a Man
Is, think him so, J.B., 80
Ez much ez you or me!'

Our folks believe in Law, John;
An' it's for her sake, now,
They've left the axe an' saw, John,
The anvil an' the plough.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess,
Ef 'twarn't for law,' sez he,
'There'd be one shindy from here to Indy;
An' thet don't suit J.B.
(When't ain't 'twixt you an' me!) 90

We know we've got a cause, John,
Thet's honest, just, an' true;
We thought 'twould win applause, John,
Ef nowheres else, from you.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
His love of right,' sez he,
'Hangs by a rotten fibre o' cotton:
There's natur' in J.B.,
Ez wal 'z in you an' me!'

The South says, '_Poor folks down!_' John, 100
An' '_All men up!_' say we,--
White, yaller, black, an' brown, John:
Now which is your idee?
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess,
John preaches wal,' sez he;
'But, sermon thru, an' come to _du_,
Why, there's the old J.B.
A-crowdin' you an' me!'

Shall it be love, or hate, John?
It's you thet's to decide; 110
Ain't _your_ bonds held by Fate, John,
Like all the world's beside?
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
Wise men forgive,' sez he,
'But not forgit; an' some time yit
Thet truth may strike J.B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!'

God means to make this land, John,
Clear thru, from sea to sea,
Believe an' understand, John, 120
The _wuth_ o' bein' free.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess,
God's price is high,' sez he;
'But nothin' else than wut He sells
Wears long, an' thet J.B.
May larn, like you an' me!'

No. III

BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN, ESQ., TO MR. HOSEA BIGLOW