POMPEY SMASH.

As I sing to folk now dat I tink is disarning,
I'll tell you whar I come from, and whar I got my larnin,
I'm hot from ole Virginny, what you fine all great men,
An' I'm Pompey Smash, one de principal statesmen,
I'm secon bess to none, on dis side ob de sun,
And by do lord, I weigh without my head half a ton.

Dis warl's made ob mud and de Mississippi river,
De sun's a ball of fox fire, as you diskiver,
De moon's made ob cheese, and allus keeps a flyin,
De wurl stands still, while the sun keeps a guyin
And de stars are ladies' eyes dat round de wurl flies,
To gibus a little light when de moon don't rise.

And now I've splain'd dese tings in a logigraphic manner,
I gib you a little touch ob ole Virginny grammar,
Dey say fotch and toat instid ob bring an carry,
And dat what dey call grammer, by de lord Harry,
And de Yankees all guess; but de French speak de bess,
For dey say we mosheer, wen dey got say yes.

Dere's annudder
An if I eber catch him, I tend for to maul him,