Low "Black" Car.
AIR -- THE LOW BACK'D CAR.
When first we heard of Franky Pierce,
'Twas on Convention day,
When all the Loco candidates
For him were cast away;
And no one knew poor Franky Pierce,
Nor could his merits sing,
For many were there who could compare
With him in every thing.
11And he sits in the low black car,
The fainting hero of war;
Deluded Loco tool,
He never can bear rule,
And sit in the President's Chair.
In battle's wild commotion,
Our noble son of Mars,
The chieftain SCOTT has served our land
And bears his warlike scars;
But Franky Pierce -- poor fellow! --
Grew dim about the eye,
And in the ditch he safely hid,
As around the shot did fly.
And he sits in the low black car,
And Billy King makes up the pair;
To Washington they steer,
Their nag will fall we fear,
And they never will get there!