The Bridge

You mean to say, you dus'n't! Changed pint o'view! No, no,--it's overboard With law an' gospel, when their ox is gored! I tell ye, England's law, on sea an' land, Hez ollers ben, 'I've gut the heaviest hand.' Take nary man? Fine preachin' from her lips! Why, she hez taken hunderds from our ships, An' would agin, an' swear she had a right to, Ef we warn't strong enough to be perlite to. Of all the sarse thet I can call to mind, England doos make the most onpleasant kind: It's you're the sinner ollers, she's the saint; Wut's good's all English, all thet isn't ain't; Wut profits her is ollers right an' just, An' ef you don't read Scriptur so, you must; She's praised herself ontil she fairly thinks There ain't no light in Natur when she winks; Hain't she the Ten Comman'ments in her pus? Could the world stir 'thout she went, tu, ez nus? She ain't like other mortals, thet's a fact: She never stopped the habus-corpus act, Nor specie payments, nor she never yet Cut down the int'rest on her public debt; She don't put down rebellions, lets 'em breed, An' 's ollers willin' Ireland should secede; She's all thet's honest, honnable, an' fair, An' when the vartoos died they made her heir.