The Bridge

I b'lieve thet's so; but hearken in your ear,-- I'm older'n you,--Peace wun't keep house with Fear; Ef you want peace, the thing you've gut tu du Is jes' to show you're up to fightin', tu. I recollect how sailors' rights was won, Yard locked in yard, hot gun-lip kissin' gun; Why, afore thet, John Bull sot up thet he Hed gut a kind o' mortgage on the sea; You'd thought he held by Gran'ther Adam's will, An' ef you knuckle down, he'll think so still. Better thet all our ships an' all their crews Should sink to rot in ocean's dreamless ooze, Each torn flag wavin' chellenge ez it went, An' each dumb gun a brave man's moniment, Than seek sech peace ez only cowards crave: Give me the peace of dead men or of brave!