It was stated in the Richmond "Dispatch" during the last days of December, 1861, that a gentleman, just from the West Indies, had said that there were eighty-seven British ships-of-war lying in those waters. This statement gave rise to the following imitation of an old song:
O Johnny Bull, my Jo John! I wonder what you mean, By sending all these frigates out, commissioned by the Queen; You'll frighten off the Yankees, John, and why should you do so? Best catch and sink, or burn them all, O Johnny Bull, my Jo!
O Johnny Bull, my Jo John! when Yankee hands profane, Were laid in wanton insult upon the lion's mane, He roared so loud and long, John, they quickly let him go, And sank upon their trembling knees, O Johnny Bull, my Jo!
O Johnny Bull, my Jo John! when Lincoln first began To try his hand at war, John, you were a peaceful man; But now your blood is up, John, and well the Yankees know, You play the ---- when you start, O Johnny Bull, my Jo!
O Johnny Bull, my Jo John, let's take the field together, And hunt the Yankee Doodles home, in spite of wind and weather, And ere a twelvemonth roll around, to Boston we will go, And eat our Christmas dinner there, O Johnny Bull, my Jo!
You can never win them back-- Never! never! Though they perish on the track Of your endeavor; Though their corses strew the earth, That SMILED upon their birth, And blood pollutes each hearth- Stone forever!
They have risen to a man, Stern and fearless; Of your curses and your ban They are careless. Every hand is on its knife, Every gun is primed for strife, Every PALM contains a life, High and peerless!
_You have no such blood as theirs_ For the shedding: In the veins of cavaliers Was its heading: _You_ have no such stately men In your "abolition den," To march through foe and fen, Nothing dreading!
They may fall before the fire Of your legions, Paid with gold for murderous hire-- _Bought allegiance_; But for every drop you shed, You shall have a mound of dead, So that vultures may be fed In our regions!
But the battle to the strong Is not given, When the Judge of Right and Wrong Sits in heaven; And the God of David still Guides the pebble with _His will_; There are giants yet to kill-- Wrongs unshriven!