A Song.

22

TUNE — "Jim Along Josey."

Oh I'se from Ohio, as you all know,
Where Gineral Harrison all de go.
Dem white folks rise when de bell does ring,
And dis is de song that dey do sing,
Ho! get along, get along Matty,
Hey! get along, get along Mat.

Oh, when de autumn months come round,
We'll hear a wery pekooliar sound;
De lectoral ballots den shall tell,
Dat Mat with his short legs don't run wery well.
Ho! get along, get along Matty,
Ho! get along, get along Mat.

Matty Van Buren toder night did dream,
That he was going in again as tho' he went by steam.

23

But now I guess, he rather thinks his biler it may bust;
Which shows that locofoco dreams a man should never trust.
So get along, get along Matty,
Get along, get along Mat.

All de folks in our State are getting wide awake,
And Gineral Harrison President, dey are going for to make.
And while in all de West de whigs dey make a rush,
De frightened locofocos cry — Hush! oh, Hush!
Ho! get along, get along Matty,
Get along, get along Mat.

De New-York locos tink dey were gay —
Say Harrison's a coward, and dey'll beat him right away.
But de more dey boast our party grows de wider and de wider
For nothing now can go against log cabin and hard cider.
Ho! get along, get along Matty,
Ho! get along, get along Mat.

Oh! de New York locos dey tink dey very fine —
And 'bout the law of Registry dey grumble and dey whine;
So dat any honest white man can wery plainly see,
Dat de Locos havn't got de votes, unless one man counts three.
Ho! get along, get along Matty!
Ho! get along, get along Mat.

Now away down south, not very far off,
A bull-frog died of de hooping cough —
And de locofoco party, though now as stiff as starch,
Will be dead as de bull-frog before the fourth of March.
Ho! get along, get along Matty,
Ho! get along, get along Mat.