land should secede;
She's all thet's honest, honnable, an' fair,
An' when the vartoos died they made her heir.

THE MONIMENT.

Wal, wal, two wrongs don't never make a right;
Ef we're mistaken, own it, an' don't fight:
For gracious' sake, hain't we enough to du
'Thout gittin' up a fight with England, tu?
She thinks we're rabble-rid------

THE BRIDGE

An' so we can't
Distinguish 'twixt _You oughtn't_ an' _You shan't!_
She jedges by herself; she's no idear
How 't stiddies folks to give 'em their fair sheer:
The odds 'twixt her an' us is plain's a steeple,--
Her People's turned to Mob, our Mob's turned People.

THE MONIMENT.

She's riled jes' now------

THE BRIDGE

Plain proof her cause ain't strong,--
The one thet fust gits mad's most ollers wrong.

THE MONIMENT.

You're ollers quick to set your back aridge,--
Though't suits a tom-cat more 'n a sober bridge:
Don't you git het: they thought the thing was planned;
They'll cool off when they come to understand.

THE BRIDGE

Ef _thet's_ wilt you expect, you'll _hev_ to wait:
Folks never understand the folks they hate:
She'll fin' some other grievance jest ez good,
'Fore the month's out, to git misunderstood.
England cool off! She'll do it, ef she sees
She's run her head into a swarm o' bees.
I ain't so prejudiced ez wut you spose:
I hev thought England was the best thet goes;
Remember, (no, you can't,) when _I_ was reared,
_God save the King_ was all the tune you heerd:
But it's enough to turn Wachuset roun',
This stumpin' fellers when you think they're down.

THE MONIMENT.

But, neighbor, ef they prove their claim at law,
The best way is to settle, an' not jaw.
An' don't le' 's mutter 'bout the awfle bricks
We'll give 'em, ef we ketch 'em in a fix:
That 'ere's most frequently the kin' o' talk
Of critters can't be kicked to toe the chalk;
Your "You'll see _nex'_ time!" an' "Look out bimeby!"
Most ollers ends in eatin' umble-pie.
'T wun't pay to scringe to England: will it pay
To fear thet meaner bully, old "They'll say"?
Suppose they _du_ say: words are dreffle bores,
But they ain't quite so bad ez seventy-fours.
Wut England wants is jest a wedge to fit
Where it'll help to widen out our split:
She's found her wedge, an' 't ain't for us to come
An' lend the beetle thet's to drive it home.
For growed-up fo