The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1863-01-24

One cold December, long ago. our Fathers
Landed on plymouth Rock ;
Along the share they heard the angry billow,
With their big hammers knock
Now, our whole lani, with all ITS glorious
schools,
It's learning. freedom. great aud little fools
It's black and white. It's honest men an,
devils.
Its grand elections. funerals and rcvpls,
With It's men that are very big
And It's men that are very small
Its men that know but little
And its mcn that know it ali
With ali It's towering Washngtons
And all It's grand Nupolcun>.
Has landed on another, idt ger rock.
Nih IL brain. scattering aud Internal knock ,
II not, We draw sober face,
And say. we guess
That we can Jcfi siotk
If they the :" Pilgrim Fathers = could
Upon ihat Plymouth iiock have stood,
Aud looked across the waste OF time
Could they have seen the guph of crime.
Could they have marked the sea of slime
In which their children hopes would houn.
der,
In which the " Ship of State" would foun-
der:
Could they have seen the swarthy scum
Dt that enormous vat Of ram
From which the Yankee Nation draws.
The force and tenor Of its luws
From which it wings its revenues
And congressman obtain their dups
\, we'll as craze their mental views,
Vile all the black filth oozing forth
From every crcvicc of tn" North
With all the deeds that drown IN shame
The lnscr Of the Southern name
Could they have seen the ipuuraurr
The Inacktry and arrogance,
With swarms of every IualhSomc thing
That from their pilgrim lons would spring.
With all the hioatcd dcmagogucS
In troops like Egypt 5 croaking frogs.
And all the ease with which they glohe
And lead die people by the nose:
Could those good men lave had the power
TO trace the future way and huur,
The " Stars would not have had to hear
Those noble hymns of lofty cheer.
Nay, rather would the so!itudcs
or those old Massachusetts woods
Have rung with one long drcary howl
Like that OF some half, tamiShcd owls
They would have cried, = this is no spot
TO lay oar bodies down to rot
Let us HE back across the foam
Contentcd with our former home;
If facts do not belle our eyes.
This is the Devils Paradise
We smell his birthstone on the gale,
We hear the switching of his tail
Among the bushes " like Il fail -
This is a gloomy time to meet
And render honor to the dav
When the good Pilgrims landed here
Wet with the cold December spray;
We do not feed like making boasts,
We do not feel like drinking toaats,
70 our terciathers worthy ghosts
We rather feel that we are Shamed
Wherein we hear their virtues named
We feel that we can only boast
How soon the the treasure we have lost
How soon have wasted. bartercd, spoiled,
The structure on whose walls they tuilcd,
That we are but degenerate sons
of nebIer and departed ones
Yes, We mud feel like this when we
Have but TO turn us round to see
The nyriads Of our country's slain
l.lr bleaching on the Southern plain,
Whilst we are helpless in our woe
10 conquer or appcase our foe,
And think that dow. the angry sky
We hear the dread words rolling nigh
And minging with the cannon 5 roar,
- The Great Republic is no more -
But trembling we must not give up
That precious boon. the rainbow. Hope:
We must not yield to black Despair
4 faint heart never wins the fair:
When burnside nnd Mcclellan make
The bricks of saucy Richmond quake,
When they shall storm its walls once more
As they have often done before.
Then We will hope and raise shout
And swing our ragged hats about,
But nor will wait
To see
If we
Cam see the thing
hat We
Can see.
C0nnCnsrhHe. ". Y. r. H.