Originale | Qualche buontempone nordista, conosciuta la canzoncina, prese... |
CHAMBER LYE (JOHN HARALSON) | JNO HARALSON |
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John Haralson! John Haralson! | Jno Haralson! Jno Haralson! |
You are a funny creature; | We read in song and story |
You've given to this cruel war | That women's in all these years, |
A new and useful feature. | Have sprinkled fields of glory; |
You've let us know, while every man | But never was it told before |
Is bound to be a fighter, | That how, midst scenes of slaughter |
The women, bless them, can be put | Your Southern beauties dried their tears |
To making lots of nitre. | And went to making water. |
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John Haralson! John Haralson! | No wonder, Jno., your boys were brave |
Where did you get the notion | Who would not be a fighter |
Of sending barrels around our street | If every time he shot his gun |
To fill them with that lotion? | He used his sweetheart's nitre? |
We thought the women did enough | And, vice verse what could make |
At sewing shirts and kissing; | A Yankee soldier sadder |
But you have put the lovely dears | Than dodging bullets fired from |
To patriotic pissing. | A pretty woman's bladder. |
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John Haralson! John Haralson! | They say there was a subtle smell |
Can't you suggest a neater | That lingered in the powder; |
And faster method for our folks | And as the smoke grew thicker, |
To make up our saltpetre? | And the din of battle grew louder |
Indeed, the thing is so very odd, | That there was found in this compound |
Gunpowder like and cranky, | This serious objection; |
That when a lady lifts her skirt | The soldiers could not sniff it in |
She shoots a horrid Yankee! | Without a stiff erection. |