Page:Railroad Poetry (1864).djvu/12

 More easy a town that was there,
 * But the old Yankee bill
 * Has one house on it still,

And that seems to have gone through the war,
 * For some two years ago
 * With a lot of poor guano,

I traded for this turpentine a lot,
 * And stored it in this house
 * As snug as any mouse,

A devil of turpentine I’ve got;
 * But the Yankee ghost
 * Shall pay me the cost
 * For so much spirits lost,

Or may their souls in purgatory rot;
 * I then went to Gouch’s store
 * To look around no more,

But pay up my score of letters,
 * He bid me to come,
 * Make myself at home,

And think no more of the bill or its fetters;
 * Perhaps some cosy friend,
 * Will allow this “amend,”

When we meet and I tell him the why
 * My last letter contain
 * So much wind and rain,

’Twas raining and there was no sky;
 * At nine I went to bed,
 * Slept as sound as if were dead,

Got up at five in the morning,
 * Used crash and ablution,
 * For ten years my notion,