King Cotton’s Remonstrance.
Negro Melody – “Poor Old Ned.”
Oh, I once was free as air, I could travel anywhere,
To my Manchester well welcomed I could go;
Now I’m bound by a blockade, and in prison I am laid,
Tho’ I ruin those who keep me there, I know.
Burden. Then lay down the rifle and the bow –
- [le] knife: and take up the shovel and the hoe:
Cease your fratricidal war, and let King Cotton go once more
To the countries where King Cotton ought to go.
By the navy of the North I am kept from going forth,
And to smuggle me all efforts are in vain:
While the sages of the South hope by Europe’s cotton drouth
Intervention in their favour they may gain.
Burden. Then lay down the rifle, &c.
To North then and to South I appeal by Punch his mouth,
To cease fighting and to set King Cotton free;
Blood and treasure both may waste that can never be replaced,
But they’ll ne’er be brought together, save by me.
Burden. Then lay down the rifle and the bow –
- [le] knife: and take up the shovel and the hoe:
Cease your fratricidal war, and let King Cotton go once more
To the countries where King Cotton ought to go.