Nonfiction > E.C. Stedman & E.M. Hutchinson, eds. > A Library of American Literature > 1835–1860
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Stedman and Hutchinson, comps.  A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes.  1891.
Vols. VI–VIII: Literature of the Republic, Part III., 1835–1860
 
What Mr. Robinson Thinks
By James Russell Lowell (1819–1891)
 
[From The Biglow Papers. First Series. 1848.]

GUVENER B. is a sensible man;
  He stays to his home an’ looks arter his folks;
He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can,
  An’ into nobody’s tater-patch pokes;
          But John P.        5
          Robinson he
    Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B.
 
My! aint it terrible? Wut shall we du?
  We can’t never choose him o’ course,—thet’s flat;
Guess we shall hev to come round, (don’t you?)        10
  An’ go in fer thunder an’ guns, an’ all that;
          Fer John P.
          Robinson he
    Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B.
 
Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man:        15
  He’s ben on all sides thet give places or pelf;
But consistency still wuz a part of his plan,—
  He’s been true to one party,—an’ thet is himself;—
          So John P.
          Robinson he        20
    Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C.
 
Gineral C. he goes in fer the war;
  He don’t vally principle morn’n an old cud;
Wut did God make us raytional creeturs fer,
  But glory an’ gunpowder, plunder an’ blood?        25
          So John P.
          Robinson he
    Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C.
 
We were gittin’ on nicely up here to our village,
  With good old idees o’ wut’s right an’ wut aint,        30
We kind o’ thought Christ went agin war an’ pillage,
  An’ thet eppyletts worn’t the best mark of a saint;
          But John P.
          Robinson he
    Sez this kind o’ thing’s an exploded idee.        35
 
The side of our country must ollers be took,
  An’ Presidunt Polk, you know, he is our country,
An’ the angel thet writes all our sins in a book
  Puts the debit to him, an’ to us the per contry;
          An’ John P.        40
          Robinson he
    Sez this is his view o’ the thing to a T.
 
Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies;
  Sez they’re nothin’ on airth but jest fee, faw, fum:
An’ thet all this big talk of our destinies        45
  Is half on it ign’ance, an’ t’other half rum;
          But John P.
          Robinson he
    Sez it aint no sech thing; an’, of course, so must we.
 
Parson Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life        50
  Thet th’ Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats,
An’ marched round in front of a drum an’ a fife,
  To git some on ’em office, an’ some on ’em votes;
          But John P.
          Robinson he        55
    Sez they didn’t know everythin’ down in Judee.
 
Wal, it’s a marcy we’ve gut folks to tell us
  The rights an’ the wrongs o’ these matters, I vow,—
God sends country lawyers, an’ other wise fellers,
  To start the world’s team wen it gits in a slough;        60
          Fer John P.
          Robinson he
    Sez the world’ll go right, ef he hollers out Gee!
 
 
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