Saint Abe and His Seven Wives. Buchanan Robert Williams

      St. Abe?

      Yes, him– the snivelling sneak – his very name

      provokes me, —

      Altho' my temper's milky-meek, he sours me

      and he chokes me.

      To see him going up and down with those meek

      lips asunder,

      Jest like a man about to drown, with lead to sink

      him under,

      His grey hair on his shoulders shed, one leg than

      t'other shorter,

      No end of cuteness in his head, and him – as

      weak as water!

      And yet how well I can recall the time when

      Abe was younger —

      Why not a chap among us all went for the

      notion stronger.

      When to the mother-country he was sent to wake