Chamber Lye (John Haralson)‎

Thomas B. Wetmore

Originale Qualche buontempone nordista,...	Le strofe con cui lo stesso John Haralson rispose alla burla...
CHAMBER LYE (JOHN HARALSON)	WET MORE!
John Haralson! John Haralson!	The women, bless their dear souls,
You are a funny creature;	And everyone for war
You've given to this cruel war	To 'soldier boys' they'll give them shoes,
A new and useful feature.	Their stockings by the score
You've let us know, while every man	They'll give their jewels all away,
Is bound to be a fighter,	Their petticoats to boot
The women, bless them, can be put	They'll have saltpetre, or they'll shout,
To making lots of nitre.	In earnest phrase--'Wet more'!
John Haralson! John Haralson!	The women, were it not for them
Where did you get the notion	Our country would be lost;
Of sending barrels around our street	They charm the world, they nerve our hearts
To fill them with that lotion?	To fight at every cost.
We thought the women did enough	What care they how our powder's made?
At sewing shirts and kissing;	They'll have it, or they'll bore
But you have put the lovely dears	Through mines or beds in stables laid,
To patriotic pissing.	And, straining, cry 'Wet more'!
John Haralson! John Haralson!	Women, yes they stoop to conquer
Can't you suggest a neater	And keep their virtue pure;
And faster method for our folks	It is no harm to kill a beast
To make up our saltpetre?	With chamber lye I'm sure.
Indeed, the thing is so very odd,	But powder we are bound to have,
Gunpowder like and cranky,	And this they've sworn before;
That when a lady lifts her skirt	And if the needful thing is scarce,
She shoots a horrid Yankee!	They'll 'press' it and 'Wet more'!