[WITH REMARKS BY PUNCHINELLO.]
I'll hang my harp on the willow-tree,
_(And that's a very sensible thing for him to do. A hand-organ is what
he wants now.)_
And I'll off to the wars again;
_(Not much. A fellow with only one leg, and perhaps but half the
regulation number of arms, is not wanted in the ranks.)_
My peaceful home has no charms for me,
_(Of course not. He gave up his home and business to go to the wars, and
he can't expect to have all these things when he comes back again, you
know.)_
The battle-field no pain.
_(A great many other fellows besides him found the battle-field no
payin' place.)_
The country I love stands up in her pride,
_(That's so. He's right this time.)_
With a diadem on her brow;
_(Referring probably to what SUMNER calls the "dire Democracy.")_
Oh! why did she flatter my boyish pride?
_(Because she wanted men; that's all.)_
She is going to leave me now!
_(By no means. He can play his organ on the corner as long as he wants
to.)_
She took me away from my child and wife,
_(That was all right enough. He couldn't take his wife and child into
camp.)_
And gave me a shoddy suit;
_(Entirely the fault of the contractors.)_