Get out of the way, "Ten-Cent Jimmy"

52

OF late some Fremont folds have said
That "ten-cent Jimmy Buchanan is dead,"
That the Platform killed him -- but 't ant so,
His ghost is about, as I can show.

CHORUS.

Get out of the way, "ten-cent Jimmy,"
Get out of the way, ten-cent Jimmy,
Get out of the way, ten-cent Jimmy,
You're too late for the White House dinner.

53

For as I went out, the other day,
I met "Old Buck" in a one-horse dray;
The horse was lame -- one eye was blind,
His tail toward the North cut short behind.

Get out of the way, ten-cent Jimmy, &c.

The dray was made of Southern pine,
built south of Mason and Dixon's line,
Went creaking and crawling along the road,
And Douglas' Platform was the load.

Get out of the way, &c.

Says I, "Old Buck, why how do you dew?"
Says he, "I'm taking a south side view."
"Well, how do you like it?" "O," says he,
"There is nothing like niggers and Brooks for me!"

Get out of the way, &c.

Says I, "Where's your wife?" -- says he, " I vow"
(And he shed some tears) "you've got me now;
I'd swop if I could (and double my vote)
My whole Platform for -- a petticoat!"
Get out o the way, &c.

Says I, "I'm thinking you're too late,
You've heard of Fremont, and Jessie, his mate;
Their mustang team is fleet and strong;
'Haw Buck, gee Breck! why don't you g 'long!'"

Get out of the way, &c.

The mustang colt will beat your time;
Your notion that a white man's worth "one dime"

54

Don't quite go down -- any more than your blood
Could stand that Democratic flood!

Get out of the way, &c.

you're too late, too old, too lame, too blind;
your one-horse team will be left behind;
You'd better come down, acknowledge the corn,
We'll give you Jessie, as sure as you're born.

Get out o the way, &c.

"Old Buck" jogged South, looking faint and sick,
Leaning on a gutta percha stick;
Poor fogy -- those thousands of votes he'll want,
Before he'll begin to beat Fremont.

Get out of the way, ten-cent Jimmy, &c.