Fearing you have cut and run,
Ere your heavy task was done
In cigars, and snuff, and rum;
Spoiling for us lots of fun,
And racy items for _The Sun_,
In the seizure rows begun,
And the heavy raids to come.
Think of poor, forsaken KIRBY,
Think of honest-scented HARVEY!
Your desertion, J. F. BAILEY,
"Busts" our glorious Trinity;
Robs the law of subtlety,
Knocks our look for _moietie_,
Knocks that Jersey property!
So much whisky all set free:
Where is SHIELDS to get his fee?
Think of melancholy PUFFER,
What the aged CHILDS must suffer!
JOSHUA F., the noble buffer,
"Lost to sight, to memory dear,"
Think of energetic VAIL
Looking round to get his bail,
While you're riding on a rail,
Or on ocean gayly sail
For UNCLE BULL'S dominion!
How could you thus fly the track
With so many stores to "crack,"
And COLUMBUS at your back
To defy the whiskey pack
And popular opinion?