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Lincoln and Douglas.


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Air -- Oh! Susanna.

I had a dream the other night when all was lone and still,
I dreamed I saw Old Honest Abe a climbing up the hill.
The way was steep and all untrod,
And many a foe was near,
But Abe pressed on with truth in God,
And heart that knew no fear.
O, poor Douglas, you cannot follow me,
You're going up Salt River
With the platform on your knee.

While Abe was climbing up the hill, & almost at the top,
Poor Dug was panting at the foot, his race compelled to stop;
He carried weight too much to win
In any even race;
His own and all his party's sins
Told hard upon his pace,
O, poor Douglas, you cannot follow me,
You're going up Salt River,
With that compact on your knee.

Old Buck sat grinning on the hill,
And cocked his leering eye,
Old Abe has won the race, or will,
But Breckites don' you cry;
I've bought and used you all I would,
And paid your price in gold.
Poor Douglas thought to banter me,
But he is also sold.
O poor Douglas, can't you never see,
You turned too short a corner, it was very plain to me.

Old Abe has reached the lofty goal,
His garments all unstained,
No taint of meanness on his soul --
The fight was fairly gained;
No promise to the happy crew,
To share with them the toil,
No offices to rascals due,
No chance for future broil.
O, poor Douglas, can't you plainly see,
The way to be elected is strike boldly for the free.