THE LAY
OF
JOHN HAROLDSON.
PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION.
PHILADELPHIA:
1866.
EDITION SIXTY-THREE COPIES.
No. [unnumbered]
TO
JOHN
THIS WORK
IS
MOST APPROPRIATELY
DEDICATED.
" The undersigned begs leave to inform
the citizens of Selma, that he has estab-
lished a nitre manufactory in the vicinity
of the city. He most respectfully requests
the ladies and heads of families to reserve
for him all their chamber lye. Wagons
with barrels will go round the city each
morning to carry off the same.
"John Haroldson."
On seeing the above advertisement in
the "Selma (Ala.) Gazette," the following
lines were written by a rebel officer, then a
prisoner of war at Johnson's Island.
I.
John Haroldson, John Haroldson,
You are a funny creature!
You've given to this cruel war
A new and useful feature.
You let us know, while every man
Is bound to be a fighter,
The women, bless them! must be put
To making lots of nitre.
II.
John Haroldson, John Haroldson,
Where did you get the notion
Of sending barrels round the streets
To gather up the lotion ?
I thought the ladies did enough
In sewing shirts and kissing;
But you must put the lovely dears
To patriotic p——g.
III.
John Haroldson, John Haroldson,
Can't you suggest a neater
And somewhat less immodest way
Of making your saltpetre ?
Indeed, the thing's so very odd,
Gunpowder-like, and cranky,
That when a woman lifts her shift
She shoots a bloody Yankee.
iv;
John Haroldson, John Haroldson,
You call beyond all reason!
What! would you work the lovely dears
Both in and out of season?
It is enough they bear our sons;
But you would call still louder.
Not only must they find the men,
But also furnish powder.
, v.
John Haroldson, John Haroldson,
The savior of secession.
Your genius hath devised a way
To meet such great oppression.
Let Bragg retire; let Yankees take
The whole of Tennessee.
In all the land sure none can find
Saltpetre-caves like thee!
VI,
John Haroldson, John Haroldson,
True, by this novel feature,
You've made the woman of the south
A doubly curious creature;
Nobly she bears our sons; and then,
Our enemies to kill,
She quickly doth herself convert
Into a powder-mill.
VII.
John Haroldson, John Haroldson,
Your name shall live in story;
Saltpetre-caves your genius finds
Exhaustless, migratory.
When you retire, they lead the way,
In double ranks or single,
And never halt 'til in the Gulf
Their chamber-lye they mingle.
