Sherry In The Saddle.

Sherry's not in saddle,
Sherry's not in saddle,
Zip-zip-zip! Zip-zip-zip!
Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!
Boys in blue skedaddle,
Boys in blue skedaddle,
Zip-zip-zip! Zip-zip-zip!
Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!
Sherry's not in saddle,
Sherry's not in saddle,
The Southron gray
Is King to-day,
For Sherry's not in saddle.

Sherry's in the saddle,
Sherry's in the saddle,
Zip-zip-zip! Zip-zip-zip!
Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!
Boys in gray skedaddle,
Boys in gray skedaddle,
Zip-zip-zip! Zip-zip-zip!
Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!
Sherry's in the saddle,
Sherry's in the saddle,
The Southron gray
Bites grass to-day,
For Sherry's in the saddle,

Sherry in the saddle,
Sherry in the saddle,
Zip-zip-zip! Zip-zip-zip!
Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!
Union foes skedaddle,
Union foes skedaddle,
Zip-zip-zip! Zip-zip-zip!
Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!
Sherry in the saddle,
Sherry in the saddle,
By night or day,
'Twixt Blue and Gray,
There's hell to pay,
When Sherry's in the saddle.

A. H. Laidlaw

No biography available

A. H. Laidlaw

The American Girls.

A. H. Laidlaw, Simple Poetry

The Young Vets.

A. H. Laidlaw, Simple Poetry

Custer.

A. H. Laidlaw, Simple Poetry

Home! Home!

A. H. Laidlaw, Simple Poetry

English

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Beautiful! Sir, you may say so. Thar isnt her match in the county;
Is thar, old gal, Chiquita, my darling, my beauty?
Feel of that neck, sir, thars velvet! Whoa! steady, ah, will you, you vixen!
Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out; let the gentleman look at her paces.

Morgan! she aint nothing else, and Ive got the papers to prove it.
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Hednt no savey, hed Briggs. Thar, Jack! thatll do, quit that foolin!
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Name of my heroine, simply Rose;
Surname, tolerable only in prose;
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She resided for change of air;
Aetat twenty; complexion fair;
Rich, good looking, and debonnaire;
Smarter than Jersey lightning. There!
Thats her photograph, done with care.

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Every lady in full dress rides!
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Sweeping the filth of a dirty street
But every womans claim to ton
Depends upon
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Should have a team that ought to be
Equal to any in all Paris!

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The American Girls.

Yes! The land we love
Is a land of pretty girls,
In grand variety;
With their many colored eyes
And their multi-colored curls,
They'll steal thy heart from thee.

If you travel in the North,
One will gleam in glory forth,
With her blue eyes, O, so blue!
And her flash of golden hair
Will be flirting in the air,
While entrancing all the soul in you.
Oho! My Boy! Oho!

Always for your weal and never for your woe,
Your little heart will gallop on the go,
And it will not give you rest
Within your manly breast,
Till you land yourself in toto at her toe.
Oho! My Boy! Oho!

If you travel in the South,
You will find a rosy mouth,
And a black eye, O so black!
And some strands of raven hair
Will purloin your heart just th...

A. H. Laidlaw

Awr Annie.

Saw yo that lass wi' her wicked een?
That's awr Annie.
Shoo's th' pet o'th' haase, we call her 'queen,'
Shoo's th' bonniest wench wor ivver seen;
Shoo laffs an frolics all th' day throo, -
Shoo does just what shoo likes to do, -
But then shoo's loved, - an knows it too; -
That's awr Annie.

If ivver yo meet wi' a saucy maid, -
That's awr Annie.
Shoo's sharp as onny Sheffield blade,
Shoo puts all others into th' shade.
At times shoo'll sing or laff or cry,
An nivver give a reason why:
Sometimes shoo's cheeky, sometimes shy;
That's awr Annie.

Roamin throo meadows green an sweet,
That's awr Annie;
Trippin away wi' fairy feet,
Noa fairer flaar yo'll ivver meet;
Or in some trees cooil shade shoo caars
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Dat Ol' Mare O' Mine

Want to trade me, do you, mistah? Oh, well, now, I reckon not,
W'y you could n't buy my Sukey fu' a thousan' on de spot.
Dat ol' mare o' mine?
Yes, huh coat ah long an' shaggy, an' she ain't no shakes to see;
Dat's a ring-bone, yes, you right, suh, an' she got a on'ry knee,
But dey ain't no use in talkin', she de only hoss fu' me,
Dat ol' mare o' mine.

Co'se, I knows dat Suke 's contra'y, an' she moughty ap' to vex;
But you got to mek erlowance fu' de nature of huh sex;
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
Ef you pull her on de lef han'; she plum 'termined to go right,
A cannon could n't skeer huh, but she boun' to tek a fright
At a piece o' common paper, or anyt'ing whut's white,
Dat ol' mare o' mine.

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