Posts Tagged ‘Jefferson Davis’

An Awful “Cuss” – The Last of Jeff. Davis

May 26, 2012

Image from Son of the South

A SOLDIER’S SONG.

The following song is a popular one among the soldiers in the field, and was sung during the present campaign on march and around among the camp fires. The “boys in blue” have no words of pity for Jeff. Davis: —

AN AWFUL “CUSS” — THE LAST OF JEFF. DAVIS.

Oh may that cuss, Jeff. Davis, float,
Halle — Hallelujah!
On stormy sea in open boat,
In Iceland’s cold without a coat;
Glory, Hallelujah!

No rudder, compass, sail, or oar,
Halle — Hallejujah!
A million miles away from shore,
Where myriad briny monsters roar;
Glory, Hallelujah!

May sharks devour him, stem and stern,
Halle — Hallelujah!
A whale then gulp him down in turn
And the devil get the whole concern,
Glory, Hallelujah!

Oh, plunge the cuss’d secession swell,
Halle — Hallelujah!
In darkest pit of deepest hell,
To gnash his teeth and roar and yell;
Glory, Hallelujah!

In burning brimstone may he be,
Halle — Hallelujah!
Whilst little devils dance in glee;
And lock the door and lose the key
Glory, Hallelujah!

Good Devil, see you chain him well,
Halle — Hallelujah!
In torture worse than tongue can tell,
In hottest fire of blazing hell;
Glory, Hallelujah!

And ‘mind his roars and frantic cries,
Halle — Hallelujah!
Oh, make eternal ashes rise,
And blow forever in his eyes;
Glory, Hallelujah!

Oh, cuss each blasted Rebel knave,
Halle — Hallelujah!
On no account Jeff. Davis save,
That hell-deserving scoundrel slave;
Amen, Hallelujah!

The Union (Georgetown, Delaware) May 26, 1865

Jeff Davis’ Prayer

May 25, 2012

JEFF DAVIS’ PRAYER.

BY CLARENCE BUTLER.

Bowed down with grievous cares of State,
(For tidings weren’t going very straight,)
There sat that awful potentate
King Jeff, the great Secesher;
He looked exceedingly forlorn,
Harrassed and vexed, annoyed and worn;–
‘Twas plain his office didn’t return
Much profit or much pleasure.

Says Jeff (he thus soliloquized:)
“This isn’t quite as I surmised;
It really cannot be disguised,
The thing is getting risky:
Winchester, Donelson, Roanoke,
Pea Ridge, Port Royal, Burnside’s stroke.
At Newborn—by the Lord, I choke!”
Jeff took a drink of whisky.

“McClellan, too, and Yankee Foote;
Grant, Hunter, Halleck, Farrigut,
With that accurst Fremont to boot;”
(Right here he burst out swearing;
And then, half mad and three parts drunk,
Down on his shaking knees he sunk,
And prayed like any frightened monk,
To ease his black despairing.)

He prayed: “0 mighty Lucifer!
Than Whom, of all that are or were
There is no spirit worthier
To be our Lord and Master;
0h, thou Original Secesh!
Please pity our poor quaking flesh.
And break this tightening Union mesh,
And stop this dire disaster!

“We trust we have not been remiss
In duty or in sacrifice;
We feel we have wrought thine abyss
Some services, good devil!
The hottest hell-fire marked our track
O’er the green land we have made black,
We think our hands have not been slack
In doing work of evil.

“Have we not drugged and drowsed the press,
And held the Bible in duress?
And, Satan, did we not suppress
The thinkers and the teachers;
Close up the schools, starve our the brains,
Lynch those attaint with loyal stains,
Festoon the Sacred Cross with chains,
And gag the Lord Christ’s preachers?

“O Prince of rebels! have we not
Almost eclipsed Iscariot,
And quite shamed Peter’s little blot,
With treachery and lying?
Have we not hacked, and hawed and burned,
And pillaged what the poor have earned;
Brought havoc on the rich, and spurned
The famished and the dying?

“So, being thine in word and deed,
We trust we shall not vainly plead
In this our time of frightful need,
And perilous reverses; —
Therefore, sink every Federal boat,
Let Stanton be with palsy smote,
Make George McClellan cut his throat,
And blast Old Abe with curses!

“Then, Satan, whilst we give thee thanks,
Kill Shields, choke Halleck, poison Banks,
And spread through all the Yankee ranks
Terrific devastation!
Let loose the plagues and pestilence,
Stir up the Northern malcontents,
And drive the invading mudsills hence,
In utter consternation!

“By all the incense we have brought;
By all the rain we have wrought;
By every woe, and every clot
Of murder, grim and gory; —
By every shriek and every wail
That makes the stunned heart blanch and pale,
O, let thy servants now prevail —
And thine shall be the glory!”

Monroe Sentinel (Monroe, Wisconsin) May 28, 1862

Previous post with Jefferson Davis: A Difference

A Difference

May 11, 2012

A Difference.

John Brown made an unlawful attempt to destroy slavery, which resulted in the killing of a dozen men. He was arrested, tried and hung.

Jefferson Davis made an unlawful attempt to perpetuate slavery, which resulted in the death of a million men. He is in durance vile, but from present indications stands a hundred chances of being the next President to one of being hung. From all of which we gather that it is treason worthy of death to take up arms against slavery, and no treason to take up arms for its perpetuation. —

If Jefferson Davis is not hung, the execution of John Brown was cold and unjustifiable murder.

The Hillsdale Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) May 22, 1866

*****

More about the above image from Roy Rosenweig Center for History and New Media:

This lithograph, rather than depicting the scene of Jefferson Davis’ arrest, added other symbols to create a more allegorical representation of the Confederate President’s capture by Union soldiers. Davis, wearing a woman’s dress and bonnet, sits in a birdcage suspended from a hangman’s scaffold. Next to the cage, John Brown, clad in a white robe, rises from out of the ground and points accusingly at Davis. Beneath the cage, diminutive figures of African Americans — in costumes familiar from minstrel stage representations of supposed black character “types” — perform a jubilant and mocking dance. Brown became the most famous martyr to the anti-slavery cause in 1859, when he led a small band of armed men in a raid against the federal arsenal at Harpers Ferry, Virginia, intending to seize the weapons there and free all slaves in the vicinity. Brown and his associates were captured and hanged for treason.

Source: G. Querner, John Brown Exhibiting His Hangman, lithograph, Cincinnati, 1863.

JEFF. DAVIS.

What the Mother of a Soldier Starved at Anderson Thinks.

From the Cincinnati Commercial, June 1.

EDS. COM. — In your paper of yesterday you say “There is no great eagerness for the hanging of Jeff. Davis. The best public opinion is that he ought to have been permitted to run away, or killed on the spot when captured, and that he should now be set ashore upon the continent of Africa,” etc.

I am the mother of one of the bravest of volunteer soldiers, who served his country during the late war, and died, with the thousands of her sons, at Andersonville, under the treatment of Jeff. Davis.

What I want the Government whom these men served, and for whom they were so cruelly murdered, to assure us, their surviving friends, is that we are not to be insulted by the liability of meeting that murderer face to face in the streets or highways of his native land. I cannot imagine that the Government contemplates inflicting such a torture on its own friends, as this possibility.

Perhaps we had a right to demand his death — perhaps there is not one of us who would not almost have given their own life to have been allowed to take his — perhaps in the history of the world there has never been an instance of a man who has so barbarously treated his prisoners, being, in return, pampered with luxuries and indulgencies, and invited, as it were, to live, by the very polite government for whom our poor boys have been sacrificed.

Is he to have his health carefully considered, who refused to shelter from the cold, the heat and the storm, the sick and dying of our army? — Dying a thousand deaths in this monstrous captivity, without a friend to help them, and we, their nearest and dearest, expected to sit by with complacency and read the reports of this man’s trumpery nerves, published to excite commiseration for his fate?

Should the Government again require volunteer help, what amount does it expect from the families of the thousands who are lying at Andersonville?

Will the press befriend those whom all other powers have deserted?

A BEREAVED MOTHER.

The Hillsdale Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) Jun 12, 1866