Part 41 (1/2)
”There's mutiny aboard the s.h.i.+p; There's feud no force can smother; Their blood is up to fever-heat; They're cutting down each other.
Buchanan here, and Douglas there, Are belching forth their thunder, While cunning rogues are sly at work In pocketing the plunder.
”Our s.h.i.+p is badly out of trim; 'Tis time to calk and grave her; She's foul with stench of human gore; They've turned her to a slaver.
She's cruised about from coast to coast, The flying bondman hunting, Until she's strained from stem to stern, And lost her sails and bunting.
”Old Abram is the man!
Old Abram is the man!
And he'll trim her sails, As he split the rails.
Old Abram is the man!
”We'll give her what repairs she needs-- A thorough overhauling; Her sordid crew shall be dismissed, To seek some honest calling.
Brave Lincoln soon shall take the helm, On truth and right relying; In calm or storm, in peace or war, He'll keep her colors flying.
”Old Abram is the man!
Old Abram is the man!
With a st.u.r.dy mate From the Pine-Tree State, Old Abram is the man!”
These words seem commonplace to-day, but they were trumpet-notes then.
”Our Lincoln is the man!” trembled on every tongue, and a tumultuous applause arose that shook the air. The enthusiasm grew; the minstrel had voiced the people, and they would not let him stop singing. They finally mounted him on their shoulders and carried him about in triumph, like a victor bard of old. Ever rang the chorus from the lips of the people, ”Our Lincoln is the man!” ”Old Abram is the man!”
Lincoln heard the song. He loved songs. One of his favorite songs was ”Twenty Years ago.” But this was the first time, probably, that he had heard himself sung. He was living at that time in the plain house in Springfield that has been made familiar by pictures. The song delighted him, but he, of all the thousands, was forbidden by his position to express his pleasure in the song. He would have liked to join with the mult.i.tudes in singing ”Our Lincoln is the man!” had not the situation sealed his lips. But after the scene was over, and the great ma.s.s of people began to melt away, he sought the minstrel, and said:
”Come to my room, and sing to me the song privately. _I_ want to hear you sing it.”
So he listened to it in private, while it was being borne over the prairies on tens of thousands of lips. Did he then dream that the nations would one day sing the song of his achievements, that his death would be tolled by the bells of all lands, and his dirge fill the churches of Christendom with tears? It may have been that his destiny in dim outline rose before him, for the events of his life were hurrying.
Aunt Indiana was there, and she found the Tunker.
”The land o' sakes and daisies!” she said. ”That we should both be here!
Well, elder, I give it up! I was agin Lincoln until I heard all the people a-singin' that song; then it came over me that I was doin' just what I hadn't ought to, and I began to sing 'Old Lincoln is the man!'
just as though it had been a Methody hymn written by Wesley himself.”
”I am glad that you have changed your mind, and that I have lived to see my prophecy, that Lincoln would become the heart of the people, fulfilled.”
”Elder, I tell you what let's we do.”
”What, my good woman?”
”Let's we each get a rail, and go down before Abe's winder, and I'll sing as loud as anybody:
”'Old Abram is the man!
Old Abram is the man!
And he'll trim her sails As he split the rails.