The daily morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven, Conn.) 1894-1907, 1900-11-15
ADMIRAL DUPONT.


A tribute to Admiral Dupont written
by Private Miles O'Reilly after the
first attack on Fort Sumpter and after
Dupont had been superseded by Ad-
nntral Dahleren. w. l.. e.
Memorial of Private Miles U Reilly.
I'll sing to you navy song
Made by ii soldiers pate ,
OF Il gallant grim ould Admirai
Whom iron jobbers hate
Because he couldn't or uldh or Woulun
Some tiDS III their favor sJale
For which he has several Dig black
marks wild no end of notes Oh ulsadlnlfa-
ton, an great big ugly crls crosses for
ninSt his nance.
On Uncle Gideons slate
This gallant grim ould Admlral
Wan Of the oulden time.
Twas he who whin our skies were DARK,
Nigh twinty months ago, -,
let riflg OF daylight tlrougn Tue clouu5
In glorious lusthre How.
The fight is done, Port Royal won,
Och didn't the country crow
(And didn't Oula Uncle Gideon Nells aye
and all the administration organs big
and little, from Colonel Forney's "Phila-
delphy - Fibber down to horace Gfeeley
very weakly Tribune)
OF the mighty victhry blow
An praise the grim ould Admiral
AS one Of the rale ould time.
An twas hims that tux the iron clads
Last spring aginst Fort Sumpter,
And twas him that at seven or eight hun
bred yards
Wild his fifteen anchors bumped her,
And twas Rhnd wild his two big rifed
That at half that distance thumped her,
while the present Admiral stands off at
the conyaynient distance OF two thou
sand yards or thereabout, until even the
fDrSOOk ruin of place seems To grow
weary of Waitn for hlm,
An don't by Il long shot come ther
SO near as the grim ould Admiral,
Who is wan of the oulden time.
But now this great ould admiral
Is laid upon the shelf,
Like broken clancy taypot
Or useless piece Of delf,
Eecause he couldn't or didn't or wouldn't,
An fer this more power to himself,
(Chimc In wild them iron clad 1obbers who
are down on their bare knees, every noun
ers son of them, night noon and morning,
praying Heaven or the other place for long
life and success to Dupont's inimies).
An their schames for acqulrln pelt
This honest and thrue ould Admiral
This type of the bygone time
An because on the side Of this Admiral
| used both me tongue and me pen
I'm now chained up like un-u-i-corn
In the Provost MarshalS den,
Wild nothing but hard tack and water,
If it worn't for the Provost men
(Who smuggle me in, God bless the boys,
on the sly do you see, an just by way OF
keepln me sperits up an preyentin me
leg ornaments from takin the skin off me
ankle too much
Some whiskey now and agen
Which | drink to the great ould Admiral
Whom | knew In bygone time.
Och, Stanton our great god of war,
My condition In pity see,
An If you have got any bowels to melt
Let your bowels be melted for me.
For ] come of the ddycintest people
In the beautiful town of Thralee
Where praties an whiskey is plenty
land divil resayv the provost marshal we
have there, at all at ALL though we does
worse If such a thing wor possible)
But they bow both the head and knee
TO men like the grim ould Admiral,
A type of the oulden time.
Sod be good to you Mister Stanton,
An look kindly on me case,
An to the man with Methusalehs beard
An the pathriarchal face,
name ould Uncle Gideon Wells,
Just AK him to show me grace,
For which | will as in duty bound
If he gets me out of this place
do for him an for yon all that ever
can votin airy and votin' often for yez
both or for aither of you, lfyez ever chance
to be candydates in any district or county
where | can get near the ballot box.
An now my name | thraac,
Miles O'Reilly who wrote Of the Admiral
An who is havin' hard ould time.
Private Miles O'Reily claimed to
have been pardoned for writing his in
cendiary songs by President Lincoln
and expressed his gratitude in the fol-
lowing lines:
Long life to you. Misther Lincoln,
May YOU die both late and aisy,
An whln you lie wild the tip Of aich toe
Turned up to the roots of the daisy,
May this be your epitaph, nately writ,
Though thraitors abused him Wiley,
He was honest and kindly, he loved joke
And he pardoued Miles QRellly.
An for this very same act while I've
breath in my lungs,
Or heart in me body beatin
It's long life to you, Misther Lincoln,
That meself will kape repaytin'.
If you're not the handsomest man In the
world,
You've done handsome by me an highly
And your name to poshterity will go down
Arm in arm wild
Miles O'Rellly.