Tuesday, October 06, 2009

Grant Poetry: 1880


It's Bad Wid Livers Wake and
Woite, but Dennis Kearney
Has 'em1; He Backed Square
Down in Frisco Town
and Straddled the
Bloody Chasm2

Chicago's Mollies Resoloot, if More
Pigtails They Find, They'll
Murder Every One, and so
They Will, Just in
Their Mind3.

An Indian Scare Up Big Horn Way,
Has Raised the Very Deuce.
The Frightened Folks are
Fleeing to the Valley
of the Goose4.

At Fifty Off He Was, You Bet
Our Favorite Maiden Aunt,
His Father Kept a Leather
Shop, His Name Was

U.S. Grant

(The Argus, 17 March 1880.)

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