Poetry: The Yankee Boatswain's Song To The American Slave-Navy

Heuve away, my Jight niggcrs, my jolly brisk blncks - Ain't there Tar in your very complexión? - ílere's a liearty good lash hys, around, for your backf, You il bc smarter, I guess, for corroction. To your swabk aod your Brilishcrs patier, d'ye - 6ee, Of Oppression and Wrong and u!l that, VVhere'e the troe Yankee nigger who'd wish to be free, Or would makü a wry face at the cal? Doii'í yon serve a Rcpublic thats gtoriouá and gfaat? Don'l t floof universal crention? Ain't you wnllop'd, you dogf! ibr tlic good f the StateThe enligrhteiied American notion? Go ahend, ilietij like -lightnitig, niy cooty-fuced tars, With "YoboT' at the top of your pipes; Stick like wux to your colurs, the slrijeti and thp tare, And give thanks lo your 6tarK for your slrincs.