Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1880-08-20
tFrom the Bowling Green Journal.l
OUR POETS ADDRESS TO
HON. JAMES A. GARFIELD.

-------------~
When great Chieago's great Convention,
Was drawing all the worlds attention,
E'e snatehed me ssrk an quarters pension,
Said, "leter come;
Our lives are scarcely worth the mention
without bum"
The man whA drives the railway car
Did spread the news malst everywhare,
That for plttance OF the fare
We ought to pay,
He'd take Us up and set us th,r
The self same day.
A gifie mair an I's aboard
An faith, felt a maist lord
To feel that 1, by grip an word
Would greet our Peers
Who have our ship o. state wlcl steerod
For twenty years.
There was Jock Logan, plague his Shaipsi
Whose belt, adorned with rebel scalps,
Was still the terror Of those whelps
Ayont the line,
While Conkling lowered like the Alps
Or Norway Pine.
An there was Hale an Fry OF Maine,
An there was Don, frae PennsylvanS,
An Congor, too, frae Mlchigane,
An hundreds more;
While our Ohio, all the same,
Was on that floor.
But JAmmie Use comm to It,
That glorious thing that pleased your poet,
When ye stood forth an buclSled to It,
An hoopcd up Jonnlc;
"Garneld," they cried, "shall lead us through it
Our nations cronnie."
An when the voting was repeated,
An day on day, we were belsted,
Ny soul would heave to hear 1t stated,
"Garaeld's the mani"
As round ye, I, unseen gyrated,
To fix the plan.
A Buckeye with the Badger hirted
An Lordyl how the crltter squirte1i
Then Conkling reared, an Logan snorted-
The thing broke loose,
When Michigan with Maine retortod,
1t was no use.
Sac now yes got the nomination,
An Presidents a mighty station,
Though Democrats with desecration,
Accurse the name,
A man lie yes of destination,
Is not their game.
But, Jammie, my tale must tell,
Which bangs around me like spell,
An as 1t is about my sci,
Take this excuse,
That gIf ye Gamma rouse mo welS,
Di ma disclose.
l am man alang In years,
Allied 10 poverty an cares,
A bonnie wife the burden shares;
Three toddling BARNS,
Wha tease, their eyes all fu' o. tears,
Al, IL
A trio, as the poachers call 1t,
A little cock, an twa wee plle.s,
Depending on their dadlie's wallets,
An little in 'em
While like tho plumbers line an bullets,
We wish to tram 'em.
Sac when we boost ye Dlest November
An way up heavenwards scriye yer number
Think ye, this chiel, ye can remember
To ge mr.
For aye, they say there's mighty plunder
Aboard tho craft.
For, Abram we hac been negl lecket,
An sometimes lis way down dejocket
When thinking what helish racket
We made for Charley;
How he, when he was clean elecket,
Forgot us fairly.
When at Chicago, by my faith,
l hotched and whoop'd as laug's I'd br 'a.h,
| An talked abolt yes mare than Gath"
| Or Perkins care;
| An still, II bet ye'd lift them bath,
le've mo hero.
I d. ma Ak ye rob yer SELL
Nor any boon 70 ha curtail;
For let my modesty prevail,
Let come what may,
I only crave, asst were, u smell
o. what ye hae.
just now ex course yere In the leade,
But ma man kens gif yel succeede,
An may for some noble deed
For our guild Nation,
Be hustled lang ways ahead
Into position.
But, Garfield, yc may not believe me
An Laird forbid that I'd deceive ye,
Or even say word to grave ye;
But on me soul
Should tn, Prince an you taO slave be
You'd get hanl.
But by my shot an horn O. powther
An by my crippled arm an skolthsr.
Glf We can only poll togather
Dispel yer fears;
The Democrats IA mare will bother
With Brigades