^ i^0( E 666 .R112 Copy 1 R. !• Hit iattt IMPEACHMENT T^i^'i'. PUBLISHED FOR AUTHOR BY AMERICAN LITERARY BUREAU, No. 132 Nassau Street, N. Y. -Vd -^ C5 Xvi. X« XT* Requiescat In. E*ace Once on a time a genius, Like you and I, you know, Aired, in a lengthy epitaph, His overflowing woe. His grandmother had parted The bitter thread of life — I think it was his grandmother, Perhaps it was his wife. Now epitaphs are plenty, Chuck full of grief and lies. But he must have one all his own, At any rate he 'd try. So he procured a marble slab. But when the thing was done, 'T was just about an inch too short To get the verses on ; And when he wished to wind it up. With — let her Rest In Peace, The three initials, R. I. P., Just fitted with a squeeze Now " Let her rip," the marble reads ; But not to blame was he, He simply bade her rest in peace. When he wrote R. L P. And now, kind friends, in following me. Or my hero, as you please, Just bear in mind that R. L P. Means, sometimes, — rest in peace ; But sometimes, awkwardly enough, This meaning gets a trip, And R. I. P. unfortunately, Degenerates to rip. There was a little tailor once Lived down in Tennessee, And not a seam he ever sewed Was known to R. I. P. One day, while sitting on his board, With legs crossed apropos, This tailor said within himself, " I might do more than sew. This head of mine is lar^e enough To hold more than my kit, I 've^^brains enough, I '11 bet I have, To live by native wit : My wife has taught me how to read, I can cypher in the dark, And whether I can write or not, By Jove, I '11 make my mark. It 's hard to part with thee, my shears. And thee, my trusty goose. But stop — the more I think of it The less I see the use : If I 'm to be a public man, I '11 have to cut and trim My coat to suit the times, or turn An old one outside in. No telling what may come to pass In future days or years ; I '11 have to cut my coat to fit ; I think I '11 keep the shears. There '11 be new wrinkles to be learned Or smoothed in my new lot, But they '11 require a softer touch Than cast-iron hissing hot'; And Imust fix all those myself By playing fast and loose ; A sad farewell to thee, old iron, Grood bye — I '11 be the goose. My mind 's made up, farewell, my friends, I '11 try for bigger hits ; Perhaps I '11 yet grow big enough To give a Nation fits. I 'm going in, by Jove, I am ; Hurrah for me, hip ! hip ! • I 've learned one letter more to day. The letter — Let her rip." Well, our little tailor prospered — At least he got along, A justice robe, a lawyer's gown He made up neat and strong : He wore them too — they fitted him The people said — so so. And Andy whispered to himself, " By jolly ! here 's a go ; I knew I had it in me, and I '11 let the neighbors see A tailor sent to Congress, or Laid up to R. L P. If there 's virtue left in bourbon. Or blarney in my tongue, Or if that ancient gentleman Still looks out for his own, I '11 make the people vote me in — My eye, aren't that a boast ? The issue will decide the point Which of us is the goose." Election came and spirits flowed, (The spirits of the people); Likewise that other kind, which makes Men high as any steeple. The tailor won — of course he did ; That gentleman of sin. Who always looks out for his own, Was that day on the win. " Now," said our little tailor man, " I reckon there 's no show, For me to ever get a peg Above -^hat I am now ; So what 's to hinder me at last From being an honest man ; I '11 just go up to Washington, And do the best I can : So, Mr. Ancient Grentleman, I '11 just give you the slip, I tell you most distinctly, sir, I 'm going to let you rip. I '11 call my friends together, sir, And hold one parting revel, And then farewell, my bourbon friend, And good bye, Mr. Devil." Then Satan winked at King Bourbon — "All on the sly," says he, " How long, think you, in Washington, We '11 let Jiim R. I. P. ?" About these days there was a muss On Uncle Sam's plantation; JefF, Davis tried to tinker up ■ A new confederation ; He tried to fence across the farm, And then nail up the bars, And cut the good old flag in two, And put out half the stars ; He swore by all the good and great, He 'd go to pulling triggers, Unless we 'd own his right divine To buy and maul the niggers. He said he did n't care a cuss For Uncle Sam's opinion ; He 'd start an empire of his own, On half of our dominion. If Uncle Sam's blue coated boys, Dare come across the line. He 'd spank the last infernal one, And send him home a cry in'. Well— our little tailor listened To all the fellow said ; But all the time hi^s jolly face Was getting mighty red ; And doubling up his little fists, He shook them in Jeff 's face ; Said he — " Look here, you empire man. That 's treason foul and base. If I was Uncle Samuel, I '11 tell you what I 'd do, I 'd take the stripes on that old flag And cut your jacket through ; I 'd teach you treason 's odious, And make you thank your stars If you got off by looking through A set of prison bars. I 'd put a little rope around Just underneath your chin, And since you 're now a stranger, I 'd kindly draw you in. If I was Uncle Samuel, 6 Or his executive, I 'd show you, sir, that on my farm No traitor son should live ; And, sir, when I was done with you, I '11 bet you a new V, That ever after quietly You 'd take your R. I. P." Brave spoke our little tailor then. And bravely acted too ; There had not entered in his heart What now is all too true. Time rolled along, and lurid war Lit up our farthest shore, And thousands of our bravest sons Marched to return no more ; And other thousands bore around The scars of many a fight, Proclaiming what they did, and dared For freedom and the right. They conquered, and the treacherous foe Lay prostrate 'neath our heel ; Subdued in open war — he tried The assassin's deadly steel. Thus was our little tailor raised To the supreme command ; And now the ancient gentleman Took him at once in hand, And said to his friend King Bourbon : " I guess, 'twixt you and me And the tailor — this goodly land Not soon shall R. L P. This tailor who tried to cut us, Now lives with us, cheek by jowl ; Just you get into his speeches, And I will take care of his soul." Now in the White House, the tailor Says to himself — says he, " I 'm getting ready generally, To let things R. I. P. I 'm President, by Jove, I am ; Hurrah for me — hie ! hip I If Congress does n't like my style, Why just let Congress rip. Here, Billy S — you 're my right bower, What 's all this row and rout ? Now Congress may as well shut up, I know what I 'm about. I know what 's best for niggers, sir. With their flat heads and noses ; Who 's any right to interfere ? Aren't I the nigger's Moses ? And have n't I learned, no matter how, 'T is blessed to forgive. And we must pardon the whole crew, And let Jeff". Davis live ? I know I said some ugly things About election time ; But it was needful then, you know : I had to play it fine. And things have changed since 'lection time, At least, I have myself ; And now we '11 see if Uncle Thad. Can lay me on the shelf. I '11 tell you what 1 '11 do, Billy, Just let them go ahead ; I '11 veto every bill they pass. And cut off' every head. I brought my tailor's shears along, I '11 cut the last one loose, I '11 iron the whole board clean, by Jove ; I 'm great upon the goose. And then I '11 try another dodge, I '11 start a traveling show ; I '11 run the thing clean through, by Jove, From here to Mexico. I '11 take along my generals And admirals, to draw ; For I must get the masses out To hear how I can jaw. I 'm heavy on the jaw, you know. And you can make the hits, While I go in promiscuously To give this Congress fits. This radical fanatic crew, I '11 give their heels a trip ; I feel it in my bones, I do, Hurrah ! — hie — let her rip." Our little tailor kept his word. He made the promised trip. And I, in candor bound, admit He did let all things rip. He ripped his reputation clean The whole length of the seam, And showed within of honesty Not e'en the faintest gleam. He ripped the bandage from all eyes Which, blinded, knew the man As one who, battling for the right, Stood boldly in the van. He ripped the last few threads that held His banner up in Maine, And sent it, shivered into shreds, Before the hurricane. He ripped the sophistries and lies Which traitors' hands had wove So cunningly about their hate, 9 To make it look like love. His trip was not all joy and peace, Nor ended in repose, And Andy felt in Washington Like summer's latest rose. To R. I. P. were n't in the man. He 'd got to fight or burst. " I 'm boss," sez he, " you bet I am, And won't I raise a dust ! Come, Billy, ring your little bell And order in the shears ; We '11 cut off E. M. Stanton's head Close up behind his ears. He 's badly in our way, you see ; We may get in a fuss, And have to use the whole army To quell the little muss. So we '11 tickle up Ulysses — Give him the place, you see, To hold till we get ready To let things R. I. P.'' Ulysses came ; he took the place : Says he : "My jolly Andy, I always wear an honest face. It comes.so very handy." Said he, "I '11 freeze tight to the place Till you the place shall fill ; And hold it till you say get out, At least, I think I will." Ulysses put his mittens on And lit a fresh cigar. And took immediate line of march Straight to the Seat of War. " How are you Grant ?" said Stanton, " Able to be about. " Now, E. M. S., absquatulate. 10 In other words, i^et out.'''' Then Ulysses winked at Stanton, And Stanton winked at He, And said : " You 've got the biggest guns, So let em R. I. P. I yield to force, ad interim^ But wait tiU Congress sits, And by the jumping Jimmy, I '11 give that tailor fits." Then out at once went E. M. S., And in went U. S, G-., And, trooper-like, each H-o-n. Did swear and R. I. P. But time rolled on, and Congress met. And straightway said to Andy ; " See here, you hifalutin' cuss. You use your shears too handy. Do n't fly your kite too high, my son, Or down in Tennessee You '11 have a chance, and that right soon, To sweetly R. I. P. For Stanton 's going back again, . So do n't turn up your nose ; Ulysses ! just get out of that ! Put on your sojer clothes !'' "All right, my jolly H-o-n-s., I glory in your vim ; You know I only took the thing To hold ad interim." -^ So out at once went U. S. G., And in went E. M. S., And each exultant H-o-n. Responded, Aye, Amen. Then Andy got his dander up ; Said he : " I '11 let them see That when I once take hold of things 11 They 've got to R. I. P. I '11 find a general who will stick — I '11 try the whole list through, From Sherman down to Hancock, And then, if that won't do. Nous verrons — oh ! I '11 bet we will. Sic transit gloria Stanton ; Do n't think, my boy, to ever read, Hie jacet Andy Johnson." He found the man — he tried it on ; But Stanton could n't see How he could possibly afford To let things R. I. P. Said he : " Lorenzo, walk right in. Let 's take a drink together ; But do n't you try to turn me out In this inclement weather." " Excuse me, sir," Lorenzo said, " I '11 occupy these quarters." "Before you do," said E. M. S., " I '11 see you where 't is hotter." And that 's as far as they two got. For E. M. S. was stubborn ; Much like those handsome long-eared brutes Men find so hard to govern. Then each indignant H-o-n. Got right up on his muscle. And Uncle Thad. and bottled Ben. Each stripped him for a tussel, To clap his hands and say St. Boy, Thaddeus put off dying : While Ben went in to chaw A. J. All up, or burst in trying. The tailor sat in the White House, Lorenzo lay around loose ; E. M. looked on serenely, 12 And lofty hung the goose ; , Senators sat for impeachment — They would, if it had sunk 'em As^deep in the Atlantic, as It did in seas of buncome. The Chase for a time was doubtful ; But the gentleman of sin Grave the wink to his friend King Bourbon, And he gave the wink to the ring. The ring-men rallied ; the tailor won ; The Butler roundly swore He 'd find out how the thing was done, He 'd probe it to the core. Then, smelling round in quest of game, He found a Woolley horse. And strove, by every jockey trick. To trot him round the course. But Woolley would n't mind the bit, To drive him Ben were n't able ; And so, at last, in sheer disgust. He locked him in the stable ; And there his penitential oats To masticate at leisure. We '11 leave this baulky, Woolley horse To wait his driver's pleasure ; For whether votes were bought or not Don't matter much, you see. In either case, impeachment got Its final R. I. P. LIBRPRY OF CONURESb 013 785 642 6 ^