HOW THEY TALK OVER THE LINE. BY ADRIAN T. GORHAM. "YANKEE ANKEE DOODLE ran away-Dixie he ran after, Russell, he stood looking on, and split his sides with laughter; Bull Run, Bull Run, Bull Run, and candy, Yankee-doodle, doodle-doo, and Yankee Doodle Dandy. "O land of freedom! where the press can't have the right of mailing, Because it tells to doodle-dum how Doodle got a whaling; God prosper well our noble queen, make sure our Enfield rifle, When Doodle shows his nose down East, he'll find it is no trifle. Bull Run, etc." -Canadian paper. REFLECTIONS ON THE ABOVE. BULL has got his "dander riz!”—shows his na ture currish; See the lion's tail goes up with a tremendous flourish ! Johnny grabs his oaken stick-takes a horn of brandy; Thinks he'd better "polish off" young Yankee Doodle Dandy. Bunker Hill! Bunker Hill! Freemen brave and handy, Gave old Bully boy a taste of Yankee Doodle Dandy! Johnny thinks our Ship of State is getting something rotten Says he'll stave her bulwarks in unless we sell him cotton; Johnny, Johnny, munch your "bif”-swig your pint of brandy, But "mind your eye," don't meddle with young Yankee Doodle Dandy! Bunker Hill, etc. Johnny's had a little grudge ever since he lost on His tea-trade speculation 'mong the patriots of Boston; "Now's the time," he bellows out, "when every thing's so handy, To pay old scores, and fix the flint of Yankee Doodle Dandy!" Bunker Hill, etc. Johnny Bull, old bovine friend! count the debts you're owing; Think upon our corn and wheat, and quit your warlike "blowing!" Provincial "poick," cease your bosh about "Bull Run and candy," For such as you are not a match for Yankee Doodle Dandy! Bunker Hill, etc. THE GOVERNMENT MULE. BY A PLAYED-OUT WARRIOR. N a muddy ditch, by a deep morass, IN A government mule lay breathing his last; With harness all geared he was waiting for death, The grim driver's summons to draw his last breath. A right hearty chap was he when enlisted, While his body by "welting" was red, white, and blue. At evening ofttime, his day's labor over, He would pensively dream of his muleage of color; But his sweet thoughts would soon grow sour and uncandid, As he gazed on his "end," and the U. S. there branded. O Abe! why did you allow the contractor You "nail" me for life-I "don't see it"—'tain't fair; The compact was for three years or the war. You've "throwed on me," Abe-I'm gone up the spout I get nary a furlough, and bounty's played outPromotion's uncertain-I work for no pay; An't this patriotic ? pray, tell me, I bray. But now all his sighs and complainings are o'er, And the lash of the driver shall goad him no more; For he's "passed in his checks," has finished his work, And pulled his last load of "shingles " and pork. There are none who will miss his elongated face, Another is ready to pull in his place; So the train will move on and the soldiers be fed, And no tears for the government mule that is dead. MORAL. soger boy! though thy "hard bread” is my bold tough, Thy "fat bacon" worse, and shoulder-straps rough, Take this sweet consolation, and don't feel so cruel, For though both are "high privates," you outrank the mu-el. A UNCLE ABE'S CONTRACT. BY SAM SILSBEE. "MIGHTY big contract" you've ta’en, A "mighty big contract" you've ta'en. A business much larger than one ought to do, |