Impeachment's Sad Fate

Air: Grafted into the Army

Impeachment is now but a played out note,
And there's no one who dare again ask it;
The Radicals gathered up courage to vote,
But they tumbled it in the waste basket;
We told them the thing was too weak, alas!

By the votes of all Radicals, they said it would pass,
They'd put it up strong in the Radical class,
But it tumbled right in the waste basket.


0, Butler! 'tis well! your impeachment fell
Beneath the Constitution;
You thought men would dare—
Without thought or care,
To despise that institution.



Now, shorn of its power, the thing lies dead
Where they tumbled it—in the waste basket;
It seems like a dream, that it e'er raised its head,
An effort which surely did task it.
Though grave are the charges which Butler makes,
The very same charges 'gainst him could be made,
But old Uncle Sam gives him all he takes,
Though there's nobody else who dare ask it

0, Butler tis well! your " charges " fell
On men whom the Nation thanks,
As your powder and ball,
At your Country's call,
Fell harmless on the rebel ranks