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At Donelson the rebel horde
Had gathered in their might,
Determined there with fire ans sword
To make a dreadful fight.
But gallant Foote with his command
Went in by water route,
While Grant besieged upon the land,
And smoked the rebels out.

Where volleyed thunder loudest pealed
Along the front of war;
The Gen'ral calmly viewed the field
A-smoking his cigar.


And Beauregard did swear, methinks,
Upon his bended knee
That his good horse should have some drinks
All from the Tennessee.
But ah! a "slip 'twixt cup and lip"
that sweet illusion broke;
For Grant just smote them thigh and hip
And made the rebels smoke.

The doughty Pem, at Vicksburg, too,
Did naught of Yankees fear;
Grant passed his guns in quick review
And gained the city's rear.
He pitched his tent, deployed his forse
And lighted his cigar,
Said he, "Misguided lads, of course,
You know just where you are."

And now, let politicans wait
There's work for men to do;
We'll place one in the Chair of State
Who wears the army blue.
The people know just what they want
LESS TALK, and no more war
For President, Ulysses Grant
A-smoking his cigar.