63. Cotton is King.
Cotton is King.Tired of her Queen,
Britain is seen
Gazing far o'er
To Columbia's shore;
Where, lying prone,
Hurled from his throne, [61]
Robbed of his power,
Brought to his hour,
Changed to a thing,
Lies the old King.
Cotton is King;
And Albion's throne,
Now scarce her own,
Rocks in a swing,
Spun by the King
She, in her pride,
Was wont to deride;
Crying, with scorn,
“Lo! the base-born
Have chosen the thing
Cotton for King!”
Cotton is King.
Let her beware,
Lest, caught in a snare,
While she bends low
Homage to show,
Far o'er the main
Should sweep the refrain:
“Britain is down,
Robbed of her crown,
And the base thing
Cotton is King!”
M. A. New York, June 17, 1861.
