South Carolina Gentleman.

       AIR— The Fine Old English Gentleman.

DOWN in a small Palmetto State the curious ones

       may find,

A ripping, tearing gentleman of an uncommon kind,

A staggering, swaggering sort of chap who takes his

       whiskey straight,

And frequently condemns his eyes to that ultimate

       vengeance which a clergyman of high standing

       has assured must be a sinner's fate;

This South Carolina gentleman, one of the present

       time.

 

You trace his genealogy, and not far back you'll see,

A most undoubted Octoroon or mayhap a mustee,

And if you note the shaggy locks that cluster on his

       brow,

You'll find every other hair is varied with a kink that

       seldom denotes pure Caucasian blood, but on

       the contrary, betrays an admixture with a race

       not particular popular now:

 This South Carolina gentleman, one of the present

       time.

 

 He always wears a full dress coat, pre-Adamite in

       cut.

 With waistcoat of the broadest style, through which

       his ruffles jut;

 Six breast-pins deck his horrid front, and on his fingers

       shine

 Whole invoices of diamond rings which would hardly

       pass muster with the original Jacobs in Chatham

       street for jewels gen-u-ine;

 This South Carolina gentleman, one of the present

       time.

 

 He chews tobacco by the pound and spits upon the

       floor,

 If there is not a box of sand behind the nearest door;

 And when he takes his weekly spree, he clears a

       mighty track

Of everything that bears the shape of whiskey-skin,

       gin and sugar—brandy sour, peach, and

       honey, irrepressible cocktail, rum and gum,

       and luscious apple-jack,

This South Carolina gentleman, one of the present

       time.

 

He takes to euchre kindly, too, and plays an awful

       hand,

Especially when those he tricks his style don't understand,

And if he wins, why, then, he stops to pocket all the

       stakes,

But if he loses, then he says to the unfortunate

       stranger who had chanced to win, " It's my

       opinion yon are a cursed Abolitionist, and if

       you don't leave South Carolina in one hour,

       yon will be hung like a dog;" but no offer

       to pay his losses he makes,

This South Carolina gentleman, one of the present

       time.

 

Of course he's all the time in debt to those who

       credit give,

Yet manages upon the best the market yields to live,

But if a Northern creditor asks him his bill to heed,

This honorable gentleman instantly draws his bowie-

       knives and a pistol, dons a blue cockade, and

       declares that in consequence of the repeated

       aggressions of the North, and its gross violations

       of the Constitution, he feels that it would

       utterly degrade him to pay any debt whatever,

       and that in fact he has at last determined to

       SECEDE.

This South Carolina gentleman, one of the present

       time.

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visitors since 04/04/2004
Page updated 05/25/2006.