Dr. Watts to Jonathan.
(A Spiritual Communication.--Medium, Miss Punch.) Let Dons delight to shoot and smiteTheir fellers, no ways slow;
Let coons and wild-cats scratch and fight,
‘Cos 'tis their natur‘ too;
But, Yankees, guess you shouldn't let
Sich ‘tarnal dander rise;
Your hands warn't made to draw the bead
On one another's eyes.
