MikeLigalig.com

THE RUN FROM MANASSAS JUNCTION
by Various Authors (compiled by Burton Egbert Stevenson)

Yankee Doodle went to war,
On his little pony;
What did he go fighting for,
Everlasting goney!
Yankee Doodle was a chap
Who bragged and swore tarnation,
He stuck a feather in his cap,
And called it Federation.
Yankee Doodle, keep it up,
Yankee Doodle, dandy,
Mind the music and the step,
And with the girls be handy.
Yankee Doodle, he went forth
To conquer the seceders,
All the journals of the North,
In most ferocious leaders,
Breathing slaughter, fire, and smoke,
Especially the latter,
His rage and fury to provoke,
And vanity to flatter.
Yankee Doodle, having floored
His separated brothers,
He reckoned his victorious sword
Would turn against us others;
Secession first he would put down,
Wholly and forever,
And afterward, from Britain's crown,
He Canada would sever.
England offering neutral sauce
To goose as well as gander,
Was what made Yankee Doodle cross,
And did inflame his dander.
As though with choler drunk he fumed,
And threatened vengeance martial,
Because Old England had presumed
To steer a course impartial.
Yankee Doodle bore in mind,
When warfare England harassed,
How he, unfriendly and unkind,
Beset her and embarrassed;
He put himself in England's place,
And thought this injured nation
Must view his trouble with a base
Vindictive exultation.
We for North and South alike
Entertain affection;
These for negro slavery strike;
Those for forced protection.
Yankee Doodle is the pot,
Southerner the kettle;
Equal morally, if not
Men of equal mettle.
Yankee Doodle, near Bull Run,
Met his adversary.
First he thought the fight he'd won,
Fact proved quite contrary.
Panic-struck he fled, with speed
Of lightning glib with unction,
Of slippery grease, in full stampede,
From famed Manassas Junction.
As he bolted, no ways slow,
Yankee Doodle hallooed,
"We are whipped!" and fled, although
No pursuer followed.
Sword and gun right slick he threw
Both away together,
In his cap, to public view,
Showing the white feather.
Yankee Doodle, Doodle, do,
Whither are you flying,
"A cocked hat we've been licked into,
And knocked to Hades," crying?
Well, to Canada, sir-ree,
Now that, by secession,
I am driven up a tree,
To seize that there possession.
Yankee Doodle, be content,
You've had a lenient whipping;
Court not further punishment
By enterprise of stripping
Those neighbors, whom if you assail,
They'll surely whip you hollow;
Moreover, when you've turned your tail,
Won't hesitate to follow.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg