Classic Poem

Satan sat in his parlor snug
On a coil of his own dear tail,
With a brimstone pipe and a mighty mug
Of regular home-brewed ale.

Handsome, wasn't he? Who would hint
Of the gentleman in the chair
Otherwise? Since the Devil must print
Whatever is written here!

His eyes were bright as a blaze of fire,
And his brows were black above 'em;
And his face was big as a Yankee bomb
When the Doodles made us love 'em.

He sat at work; for he keeps no clerk,
And trusts to no attorney;
Though he keeps a place at his desk, in case
Of a sudden run, for Forney.

— Confound these Doodles! — the Devil said,
As he stuck in his multiplication,
— Their very names are enough to shed
A stench on their generation!

— There's Greeley, and Beecher, and Weed — a flower!
Brown, Brownlow, and, let me think —
Change the name and no skunk as sour
Could possibly ever stink. —

They keep old Lucifer taxed of late
To the double in pen and ink: —
It's scribble and cipher and fumigate,
And still they come and stink,
Till the Devil can hardly calculate
— What next, — with a nod and a drink.

Twenty times six is — the River Styx!
What's happened in Congress now?
Are they coming through with their hullabaloo? —
Such an infernal row!

— Ho, Asmodeus! bar the door
With a red-hot poker, do!
Some extra Doodle has got the floor,
And I fear he will tumble through!

— Send an imp, if you have one cool,
And tell him to wait till wanted;
He must go round if he is a fool,
There's no through tickets — Granted.

— I thought the Johnnies had taught him as much
Whenever he dared to attack 'em!
Their Robert Lee (Diable!) met him never with such
A Grand Army of Bummers to back him.

— Darn these Doodles! again I say,
The butcherly sons of thunder!
Fuming hell in this sort of a way —
Asmodeus, stand from under! —

I heard a crash! and I saw a spout
Of flame through the sulphured smoke!
The Capitol sunk till its dome stuck out,
And the woman on top shook her cap, with a shout!
And — luckily I awoke!