



Produced by David Widger from page images generously
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NEW HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT.

AN ORIGINAL AMERICAN VERSION.

By L. Whitehead, Sr.

Designs by H. L. Stephens and G. G. White.

NEW YORK:

Beadle and Company, Publishers, 118 William Street

1865

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TO THOSE,

WHO,

LOVING THEIR BELOVED WELL,

LOVE THEIR

COUNTRY NONE THE LESS,

THIS WEDDING

OF THE OLD AND THE NEW

IS ADDRESSED:

TO THOSE,

WHO,

LOVING THE RIGHT AND TRUE,

HATING WRONG

AND,

SCORNING ALL SUBSERVIENCY TO PRIDE,

THIS TRIBUTE

TO

PATRIOTISM AND FREE LABOR

IS DEDICATED.



|This is Jack, the Laborer.

He has worked with his muscles, his brain and his pen,

For ages, to ransom the children of men.

Reformer in politics, morals, and law,

The noblest example the world ever saw.

The true type of progress for each generation,

He works out his problems in every nation.

For every man he does what he can,

And never diverges one jot from his plan;

He lays his foundation in human equality,

And this, he affirms, is the only right polity.

To old Plymouth Rock, with the Pilgrims he came,

And the wilderness echoed the notes of his fame;

And he worked with a will, till the top-stone was laid,

In the Temple of Freedom, the house he had made.


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|A tenement House, on a National plan,

So Jack had designed, ere the House he began;

And so deep, and so wide did he lay the foundation,

That it took half the continent for its location.

No matter; the larger the better, thought Jack,

For millions of Freemen will soon find the track

Of Human Redemption out here in the West,

Where, free from oppression, the weary may rest.

So, up went the Pillars, from ocean to ocean,

And, out spread the Roof-Tree midst wildest commotion;

A glorious banner then waved from its dome!

And Liberty shouted: "This, _this_ is my home!"


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|The freedom of Labor, the freedom of Speech,

Is the gift of the nation, to all and to each;

While, to worship his God, in the way he may choose,

Is secured by law, to both Gentiles and Jews.

A plow-boy may rise to the highest position,

And sanctify effort in every condition.

Truth, virtue, and knowledge, with science and art,

Each ply their vocation, some gift to impart,

That all may contribute, each one in his measure,

A tithe of his wealth to the national treasure.


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|He entered the Temple, a thief in disguise,

And he glared on the treasure, with envious eyes;

He flew at Free Labor, with terrible spite,

And thought to destroy its charms with a bite;

With the jaws of Oppression he snapped quick and fast,

And Slavery's poison around him he cast;

Free speech, nor free press, nor a free institution,

Escaped the vile curse of the creature's pollution;

So the Rat he grew fat on the plenty around him,

And thought he had triumphed: the rascal! confound him!


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|Some said that it was not a Rat, they were sure,

But an angel of mercy, to comfort God's poor--

Sent hither, by Heaven, to do its decrees,

And serve the exclusives, the great F. F. Y. V.;

But the Cat declared plainly, with old-fashioned truth,

That he knew 'twas a rat, by its venomous tooth;

He had seen it in Egypt, in England and France,

Yea, all o'er the world it had led him a dance;

And now, having found him again on his track,

Out! out! went his claws, and up! up! went his back;

His hairs stood like bristles, and he wag'd his huge tail,

As a farmer swings round him his old-fashioned flail;

One bound and one grip, and the Rat was "non est,"

For Tabby too tightly his throttle had pressed!


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|A quarrelsome, snarling, aristocrat cur,

'Way down in the South, you may safely infer,

Disgusted with Tabby, now raised quite a fuss,

And blustered and swore he would kick up a muss;

He foamed at the mouth, and he shouted "Secession!"

Till curdom reechoed the hateful expression.

At length so excited the whiffet became,

It was thought by his friends that the dog was insane!

But, when he saw pussy his rage knew no limit;

It drove him stark mad in the very same minute;

He vowed with the shackles of Slavery to bind her,

And worried the Cat wheresoe'er he could find her.

Nay, more: in his madness, with fire and with sword,

He swore not to stop till the last drop was poured