Sweet Maid of Erin.
BY ROBERT M. HART.
Air—Kathleen Mavourneen.
Sweet Maid of Erin, the war-cry is sounding,
The bugle’s loud pealing is heard o’er the plain,
While Death on his charger in battle is bounding,
And leaving behind him our patriot slain.
Thou hast not forgotten the friends that you parted,
To battle for country, for God, and our right;
And sad are thy tears for the lone broken-hearted,
Who silently languish in grief's fearful night;
Sweet Maid of Erin, they welcome thy footsteps,
And pray for thee daily and Erin go Bragh.
Sweet Maid of Erin, the green grass is springing
Beside where the loved ones of Erin lie low,
And down in the village the church-bells are ringing—
Alas! how thy minstrel is cast down with woe.
He has not forgotten thy love and affection—
The last parting kiss and thy musical sigh—
They linger together in fond recollection,
And cheer him to duty when dangers are nigh.
Sweet Maid of Erin, the song of thy minstrel
Is, God bless Columbia and Erin go Bragh.
Sweet Maid of Erin, the Shamrock and Thistle
Are linked with the Star-crested Banner to-day,
And, waving in glory where fierce weapons bristle,
Are emblems of greatness in Freedom’s affray.
We have not forgotten the fond hope of freemen,
The home in the West for the true and the brave;
And Celts ne’er will yield, for the daring shall lead them
To triumph o’er Treason, or sink in the grave.
Sweet Maid of Erin, though far in the distance,
I still love my darling, and Erin go Bragh.
Stand by the Union.
Air—Wait for the Wagon.
Fellow-citizens and soldiers! I’ve a word or two to say,
There’s no use to dodge the question, or to flout the facts away;
If a man is not a traitor, he’ll not fear to show his hand,
And unless we all are rebels, we must by the Union stand.
CHORUS.
Stand by the Union! Stand by the Union!
Stand by the Union! and be on the right side.
When soldiers’ plumes are dyed with blood, the good old hearty red,
We’d better mark the knave who wears white feathers on his head;
While batteries menace Washington, and rebel armies rise,
A coward or a traitor’s he who prates of “Compromise.”
Stand by the Union, etc.
The only Compromise we’ll make is at the cannon’s mouth,
The only terms of Peace we’ll give—Submission by the South:
One only power must rule the land—it can’t be ruled by two—
And we must prove who strongest are—the Traitors or the True!
Stand by the Union, etc.
’Tis ours to meet and measure now the powers of Right and Wrong,
While they are weak with Slavery, in Union we are strong;
For all that Washington bequeathed to humankind we fight—
Hurrah, then, for the Union! and may God protect the Right!
Stand by the Union, etc.
Drummer Boy of the National Greys.
Copied by permission of Horace Waters, Music Publisher,
481 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
See the gallant Drummer Boy,
How his face lights up with joy,
As he takes his envied place
In the corps of the National Greys.
Noble Clarie, Patriot Clarie!
Drummer of the National Greys.
All the children in the street
Strive with Clarie to compete,
As upon his drum he plays
In the corps of the National Greys.
Noble Clarie, Warrior Clarie!
Drummer of the National Greys.
Ah! but Clarie ’ll have to go
Where his own life-blood may flow,—
This he knows, yet firmly stays
In the corps of the National Greys.
Noble Clarie, Faithful Clarie!
Drummer of the National Greys.
Tho’ the direst ills betide,
Clarie’s heart beats high with pride
When he hears the shouts of praise
Echoing for the National Greys.
Noble Clarie, Hero Clarie!
Drummer of the National Greys.
Clarie’s bosom knew no fear,
Tho’ his eye betray’d a tear
When his Mother’s sadden’d gaze
Rested on the National Greys.
Noble Clarie, Loving Clarie!
Drummer of the National Greys.
“Never shall the traitor drag
From its height our Country’s Flag!”
Thus, he loyalty displays
In the corps of the National Greys.
Noble Clarie, Brave young Clarie!
Drummer of the National Greys.
Trusting in the God of love,
Clarie looks with faith above,
Pray’r and meekness guide his ways
In the corps of the National Greys.
Noble Clarie, Christian Clarie!
Drummer of the National Greys.
Hark! that musket’s direful sound!
See the fatal ball rebound!
Suddenly a piercing cry
Rends the air and cleaves the sky;
’Tis from Clarie, Martyr Clarie!
Loved of all the National Greys.
Tears, those Soldiers’ eyes suffuse;
Sad and solemn is the news;
Clarie rudely from them torn,—
From their ranks forever gone.
Mirthful Clarie, Buoyant Clarie!
Fav’rite with the National Greys.
Clarie now lies still and cold
(Only twelve brief summers old)
Low beneath the mould’ring sod,
But his soul has gone to God.
Gentle Clarie, Youthful Clarie!
Mourn’d of all the National Greys.
Muffled is the rolling drum,
Hush’d the busy children’s hum,
Agonized a father’s brow,—
All in deep submission bow.
Spirit Clarie, Blessed Clarie!
Gather’d with the angels now.
Sadden’d is the humble home,
There no more his step will come,
But his songs of praise will rise
In a home beyond the skies.
Happy Clarie, Ransom’d Clarie!
Seraph bright in Paradise.
Following the Drum.
Air—Over the Mountain.
Up from the valley deeps,
Down from the crags,
Out from the forest-aisles,
Waving our flags—
Marching with warlike tread,
Forward we come,
Sons of America,
Following the drum!
Shouting our battle-cries,
Forward we come,
Sons of America,
Following the drum!
Down from New England hills,
Out from New York,
Over the Jersey plains,
Strong for our work—
From Pennsylvania’s glens,
From Indiana,
Up from the O-hi-o,
Under our banner.
Michigan’s riflemen,
Oregon’s scouts,
Landsmen and mariners,
Mingling their shouts;
Under the Flag of Stars—
Waving still high—
Still for the Union, boys,
Stand we or die!
Victory’s Band.
Air—Dixie’s Land.
We’re marching under the Flag of Union,
Keeping step in brave communion!
March away! march away! away! Victory’s band
Right down upon the ranks of rebels,
Tramp them underfoot like pebbles,
March away! march away! away! Victory’s band.
CHORUS.
Oh! we’re marching on to Victory!
Hurrah! hurrah!
In Victory’s band we’ll sweep the land,
And fight or die for Victory!
Away! away!
We’ll fight or die for Victory!
The rebels want a mongrel nation,
Union and Confederation!
March away! march away! away! Victory’s band!
But we don’t trust in things two-sided,
And go for Union undivided,
March away! march away! away! Victory’s band!
Oh! we’re marching, etc.
We’re marching down on Dixie’s regions,
With Freedom’s flag and Freedom’s legions,
March away! march away! away! Victory’s band!
We’re rolling down, a “Pending Crisis,”
With cannon-balls for Compromises,
March away! march away! away! Victory’s band!
Oh! we’re marching, etc.
Mustering-Chorus.
Air—The Merry Swiss Boy.
Come arouse, men, arouse, men, the trumpet calls,
Every patriot must off to the fray! [Repeat.]
The land we love is girt with foes,
The flame of war still fiercer glows;
Come, arouse, then, arouse, then, the trumpet calls,
Every patriot must haste to the fray!
’Tis no time, men, no time, men, for fear or pause,
While the trumpet is calling away! [Repeat.]
The Union’s heart is rent in twain,
’Tis ours to bind its cords again!
’Tis no time, men, no time, men, for fear or pause,
While the trumpet is calling away!
Then, away, men, away, men, to follow our flag,
Wheresoever it leads the way; [Repeat.]
Let factions cease, let parties die,
Let Union be our only cry—
And away, men, away, men, to follow our flag,
Wheresoever it leads the way!
Begone, Sesesh!
Air—Begone, Dull Care.
Begone, Sesesh! I bid thee begone from me!
Begone, Sesesh! you’d better make haste and flee!
Long time you have been bullying here,
And fain would Union kill;
But, we all now swear,
You never shall have your will!
Old Sesesh! I’ve known you in days gone by,
Old Sesesh! you wanted to nul-li-fy!
Long time ago you badgered us,
And tried, the land to rule,
But we flogged you well with a Hickory rod,
In brave old Jackson’s school!
Begone, Sesesh! in South Carolina rest!
Begone, Sesesh! the snake is your proper crest!
We’ve found out all your snakish ways,
And drawn your serpent teeth,
And wherever the foot of Freedom falls,
Your head shall lie beneath!
The Patriot’s Serenade.
BY ROBERT M. HART.
Air—Glory, Glory, Hallelujah.
Look ye to our banner floating—
Freemen ever fondly doating—
Hirelings now so sadly gloating
At Treason’s fearful sting.
CHORUS.
Glory, glory, be our anthem,
Glory, glory, be our anthem,
Praises to our Starry Banner,
As patriots, let us sing.
Hark! o’er hill and hamlet bounding,
Shouts of freemen now resounding,
All our enemies confounding—
Our eagle’s on the wing.
Chorus.—Glory, glory, etc.
Spirits of the great departed!
Cheer the sad and broken-hearted—
Lead to victory those who started
To fight Rebellion’s king.
Chorus.—Glory, glory, etc.
Rule, Columbia.
Air—Rule, Britannia.
When tyrants fled our rescued land,
And Freedom bless’d her sacred shrine,
Each patriot raised to heaven his hand,
And swore to guard her rights divine.
Rule, Columbia!
The Union still must sway!
Freemen rule America!
Our land is Freedom’s chosen home,
To all the world ’tis opened wide;
To these fair shores let nations come,
And all our bounteous soil divide.
Rule, Columbia!
The Union still must sway!
Freemen rule America!
The Union is our children’s dower,
’Tis priceless as the air we breathe;
While rebel arms defy its power,
Our patriot swords we’ll never sheathe!
Rule, Columbia!
The Union still must sway!
Freemen rule America!
The Brave and Free.
Air—The Pilot.
Oh, comrades! ’tis a fearful strife
That jars our land this day—
When brother strikes at brother’s life,
And sons their sires betray!
But He who rules each nation’s right,
Our sword and shield shall be!
Fear not! fear not! Jehovah’s might
Still guards the Brave and Free!
Though rebels swarm on every hand,
And Treason spreads its snares,
Our Ship of State, by patriots mann’d,
The Flag of Stars upbears!
Behind the clouds is sunshine bright,
Whose beams we soon shall see!
Fear not! fear not! Jehovah’s might
Still guards the Brave and Free!
No craven doubt shall shake our trust
In Union’s righteous cause;
Our motives pure—our action just—
For Freedom’s Land, and Laws!
Against the foes of man we fight,
And Victory ours shall be!
Fear not! fear not! Jehovah’s might
Still guards the Brave and Free!
Sweet is the Fight.
Air—Sparkling and Bright.
Sweet is the fight
For Freedom’s right,
Though our heart’s best blood be streaming;
By heroes led
Unto Glory’s bed,
With lives our land redeeming!
We seek the fight
With falchions bright,
With our hearts in brave communion—
Together we’ll stand
For our glorious land,
And the cause of the grand old Union!
Oh! who would shrink
From danger’s brink,
Or fly from the conflict gory,
When Ruin complete
Will attend defeat,
While Victory crowns with glory!
We’ll dare the fight.
For Freedom’s right,
With hearts in brave communion!
Together we’ll stand
For our glorious land,
And the cause of the grand old Union!
Remember Traitors.
Air—Boyne Water.
When Union ruled our noble land,
And Liberty’s arms were round her,
No foemen could her power withstand,
No danger could astound her.
But now, in rebel ranks displayed,
With despot snares behind them,
Old friends we see as foes arrayed,
And mark them, as we find them!
We mark the wretch, where’er he be,
Who’s false to the land that bore him;
We’ll mark the knave who swears he’s free,
Yet brooks a traitor o’er him!
And more than all, we’ll mark the men
Whose traitorous inclination
Would rivet foreign chains again
O’er Freedom’s chosen nation!
When strangers sought Columbia’s shore,
And the wanderer claimed protection,
We bade them share our peaceful store,
And asked no mean subjection.
And now, thank God! when Treason’s band
Conspire in vile communion,
We see the sons of every land
Combined to shield our Union!
Beautiful Union.
Air—Beautiful Venice.
Beautiful Union! Liberty’s home!
More queenly than Greece, more immortal than Rome!
How fondly thy name in our love is enshrined—
How close to all hearts are thy glories entwined;
For Freedom’s bright banner waves over thy soil,
And beneath it, secure, every freeman may toil;
For of all the world’s lands there is no land like thee,
My Beautiful Union! The Land of the Free!
Beautiful Union! Pride of the earth!
With thee all the hopes of the people had birth;
Thy shores are their refuge from tyranny’s ban—
Where justice and freedom are pledged unto man!
And the dastard who doubts thee, the wretch who betrays,
Accursed of all mankind shall end his vile days!
For of all the world’s lands, there is no land like thee—
Our Beautiful Union! the Land of the Free!
The Star-Gemmed Flag.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Our fathers cleft the ocean wave,
The birthright of the free to save;
And when they hail’d these western shores,
They claim’d them as their own and ours.
And when a Prince of foreign lands
His warriors poured upon our strands,
They spurned the lordlings from their fields,
And o’er their homes still held their shields.
Then wave the Flag, our Fathers’ Flag,
In memories of their bravery;
Then shout the Flag, our Fathers’ Flag,
The Star-gemmed Flag of brave hearts and the free.
CHORUS.
Run up the Flag, unfold the Flag,
Broad as the land, wide as the sea;
Then wave the Flag, then cheer the Flag,
The star-gemmed Flag of brave hearts and the free.
Our mothers by our fathers stood,
As if, in War, they had been wooed;
Tho’ fragile were their yielding forms
While rolled the war-cloud and the storms.
And yet, heroic as their lords,
They cheered with smiles, with tears, with words.
But while they trembled at their homes,
They leaned on God whence victory comes.
Then shout the Flag, our Mothers’ Flag,
In memory of their well-spent lives;
Then wave the Flag, our Mothers’ Flag,
The Star-gemmed Flag of brave hearts and their wives.
Our Sisters, too, were bravely dear,
They gave their smiles, they wept their tear;
And rested in their mothers’ arms,
Or often woke to war’s alarms.
But while their hearts in sorrows moved,
And wept the brothers that they loved,
They knew the strife was for the free,
Their Country and for Liberty.
Then hail the Flag, our Sisters’ Flag,
Its Stars and Stripes their zones shall be;
Then wave the Flag, our Sisters’ Flag,
The Star-gemmed Flag our Sisters’ zones shall be.
A seven-years’ war was past and gone,
And many a heart was left forlorn;
But prouder o’er our Western shore,
Its Eagle-Bird was seen to soar;
And in his talons, as he flies,
He bears our Flag of victories;
And ever shall that Banner be,
The hope, the shield of Liberty.
Then shout the Flag, our Country’s Flag,
The Banner-Flag of Liberty;
Then wave the Flag, our Union’s Flag,
The Star-gemmed Flag of brave hearts and the free.
And on the land, and on the sea,
Wherever roam her sons from thee,
Our Nation’s Flag shall ope its fold,
The loved and honored of the world;
For right, not might shall be its claim,
As “Flag of Freedom” is its name;
While Armies shall our emblem bear,
And Navies our proud bunting wear.
Then shout the Flag, our Army’s flag,
The Flag of Right and Liberty;
Then hail the Flag, our Navy’s Flag,
The Star-gemmed Flag of brave hearts and the free.
Words of Sympathy.
BY ROBERT M. HART.
Air—Katy Darling.
Oh, they told us you were dead, poor Jeff. Davis,
That your form was lying stiff and cold
In the catacombs of Eastern Virginia,
Where thy virtues were greatly extolled;
But, oh, ’twas a cruel hoax, Jeff. Davis,
You’re alive and kicking, we see,
And there’s many now would hang you, poor Jeff. Davis,
On the branch of the first sycamore tree.
Your pockets they are empty, poor Jeff. Davis,
And of gold you are very much in need,
While starvation mounts the throne close beside you,
And secession has just gone to seed;
And, oh, what a sad mistake, Jeff. Davis,
To think with cotton all alone
You could frighten Uncle Sam, poor Jeff. Davis,
And then rob him of half of his home.
Oh, there’s trouble in the South, poor Jeff. Davis,
And your prestige is going to decay;
You had better get your duds ready shortly,
And push forward, an exile, this way,
We’ll feed you and lodge you, Jeff. Davis—
Our kindness you ne’er will forget—
We’ll take you out a sailing, poor Jeff. Davis,
And then land you at Fort Lafayette.
Volunteer’s Song.
Air—Free and Easy.
Onward! onward! is the cry now,
Treason stalks throughout the land;
To guard our honor each one try now,
March together, heart and hand.
CHORUS.
So let the Southerners do as they will,
We will fight for the Union still!
Fight for the Union!
Fight for the Union!
We will fight for the Union still!
Though Revolution, dark as night,
Enshrouds the Banner of the Free,
There are none so base that will not fight
For this great land of Liberty!
The traitors would the Union sever
Our fathers worked so hard to form;
Yet we are for the Union ever,
Through sunshine, peace, or storm!
Then hear! Oh hear! our country’s call,
Raise our glorious banner high;
Come, rally! rally! one and all!
To save the Union or to die!
A Mother’s Hymn in Time of War.
BY WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE.
Oh Lord of hosts! his country called,
And nobly to her voice he sprung,
While o’er his brow our banner flashed,
Where chargers neighed and trumpets rung.
There were no tremors in his eye,
When putting on his warrior-crest;
And but a tear—it was when he
Was clasped unto his mother’s breast!
Oh Father! shield him from the shot;
But if it is his doom to die,
May he, with shouts of triumph round,
Bend on our flag his closing eye—
And feeling that his mother’s soul
Is watching on the field of death;
Where, though it weeps, yet gives a smile
Unto her brave boy’s last wild breath.
Oh, proudly will his mother see
Her Country wreathe his hero-tomb,
And many a Spring nurse tenderly,
With nature’s tears, the garland’s bloom!
How sweet will be the song of praise,
Where his dear relics peaceful lie!
How grand—away exultant thoughts!
Oh God! he must not, must not die!
Away to the Fray.
Air—The Sea—the Sea.
Oh, away! away! to the mighty fray,
To the strife for all most dear;
There is naught on earth of a rarer worth,
Than a patriot’s faith sincere!
And the cause that calls us all this day,
Is the holiest cause that e’er
Invoked the aid of a brave man’s blade,
Or the power of a good man’s prayer.
CHORUS.
Away! away! let cowards stay!
But honor impels the brave!
There’s naught but death in a craven’s years,
And there’s life in a hero’s grave.
When the cause we serve is a righteous cause,
And the flag we bear unstained,
And our patriot steel, for the common weal,
We lift, with hands unchained,
There is never a power can bar our path,
Nor force can bid us turn,
Till we clasp our brands, with a victor’s hands,
Or they lie on the funeral urn!
Away! away! etc.
The Union Gunning Match.
BY ROBERT M. HART.
Air—Johnny Stole the Ham.
The Union boys are all out gunning,
Are all out gunning, are all out gunning—
The Union boys are all out gunning—
Oh listen to the noise.
Chorus—Around the monster Tree
That sprung from Liberty,
’Twas nurtured by the Free
And Union-loving boys.
Some game they caught and caged already,
And caged already, and caged already—
Some game they caught and caged already,
Way down in Lafayette.
Chorus—There we can see the birds
Who traveled North in herds,
Because of deeds and words
That Samuel can’t forget.
Our Sam’s awake, and both eyes open,
And both eyes open, and both eyes open,
Our Sam’s awake, and both eyes open,
As umpire of the day.
Chorus—With good and steady aim,
And ardor none can tame.
Our boys the match will gain—
The laurel bear away.
The stakes are up, the ground all ready,
The ground all ready, the ground all ready—
The stakes are up, the ground all ready,
And now, boys, blaze away.
Chorus—But hark the sudden news!
Old Jeff. has got the blues,
And trembling in his shoes—
Secesh has gone astray.
The Nation of the Free.
BY MRS. METTA V. VICTOR.
Oh, mother of a matchless race!
Columbia, hear our cry;
The children nursed in your embrace,
For you will live and die.
We glory in our fathers’ deeds,
We love the soil they trod;
Our heritage we will defend
And keep, so help us God!
CHORUS.
Rise, rise! Oh Patriots, rise!
Let waiting millions see!
What courage thrills, what faith inspires
The Nation of the Free!
Hail, brothers in a common cause!
True to your birthright stand!
The Constitution and the Laws
Must know no Vandal hand.
Let foreign foes invidious gaze,
To see our light expire;
They’ll shrink in awe before the blaze
Of Freedom’s deathless fire.
Hark! how the hymns of glory swell
Above our fathers’ graves!
Th’ unfaltering men of Seventy-Six
Begot no race of slaves.
The blood that bought our sacred right
Still in their lineage runs;
No tribute gold, no traitor’s might
Shall wrest it from their sons.
Shade of heroic Washington!
Still guard our Native Land!
Rebuke, rebuke each wavering one,
Direct each ardent hand!
Oh, mother of a matchless race!
Hear our united cry!
’Tis noble in your cause to live,
And nobler still to die!
The Stars and Stripes.
Copied by permission of Russell & Patee, Music Publishers,
61 Court street, Boston, owners of the copyright.
Rally round the flag, boys
Give it to the breeze!
That’s the banner we love,
On the land and seas.
Brave hearts are under it;
Let the Traitors brag;
Gallant lads, fire away!
And fight for the flag.
Their flag is but a rag—
Ours is the true one;
Up with the Stars and Stripes!
Down with the new one!
Let our colors fly, boys—
Guard them day and night;
For Victory is Liberty,
And God will bless the Right.
The “Mud-Sills” Greeting.
Air—Yankee Doodle.
Oh nigger-drivers, don’t you know
You ought to have a thrashing,
For kicking up this mighty row—
This game of Union-smashing?
Not satisfied with what you’ve got,
You want to bag and steal, sirs,
Our Capitol and capital—
With Jonathan you’ve to deal, sirs!
CHORUS.
So corn-cobs twist your hair,
Gun-wheels run around you,
Alligators drag you off,
And empty kegs surround you!
The “mud-sills” have at length got tired
Of insolence and treason;
They’ll teach the rebels an all-fired
Lesson for the season.
Then sneak behind masked batteries,
Lay down in your trenches,
Send the darkies out on guard,
Make armorers of their wenches.
CHORUS.
Yankee boys will make you hear
Constitution’s thunder!
Yankee blades in Yankee hands
Will fill your souls with wonder.
The Past and Present.
BY ROBERT M. HART.
Air—Old Bob Ridley O.
Old Abram came across the mountains,
By rural cots and gushing fountains,
To rule a great and happy nation—
And the brightest gem in all creation;
Old Abe Lincoln O, old Abe Lincoln O,
Our hearts are true to stand by you,
Abram Lincoln O.
When Abe took charge of our plantation,
Secesh was making preparation
To steal the half for raising cotton,
But soon found out his scheme was rotten;
Old Abe Lincoln O, Old Abe Lincoln O,
No mercy show the thieving foe,
Abram Lincoln O.
Old Abram is a man of knowledge,
Although he never went to college,
And his heart is right, and strong his nerve,
And from his duty will not swerve;
Old Abe Lincoln O, old Abe Lincoln O,
Hold up the Flag and never lag,
Abram Lincoln O.
Old Abe goes in for home protection,
And keeps an army of inspection,
Just to see that things are done up right,
And the boys are spoiling for a fight;
Old Abe Lincoln O, old Abe Lincoln O,
When they begin, let them go in,
Abram Lincoln O.
Song of Union.
Air—Zuyder Zee.
Grand is the sight, when for national right,
A People in arms are rising—
Every bosom on fire with a freeman’s desire,
Every spirit all treason despising.
Crying—“Oh, let the Song of Union be
Strong and deep as the rolling sea!
Deep and strong as the rolling sea!”
Grand is the cause of our Land and Laws,
And the good old Constitution!
For our lives and gold, and our honor, we hold
Like the men of the Revolution!
Crying—“Oh, let the Song of Union be
Strong and deep as the rolling sea!
Deep and strong as the rolling sea!”
Rise, brothers, rise!—let your mingling cries,
Roll out in a grand hosanna!
March, brothers, march! while the stars o’erarch,
We have always our country’s banner!
Crying—“Oh, let the Song of Union be
Strong and deep as the rolling sea!
Deep and strong as the rolling sea!”
Traitor, Spare that Flag.
BY THOMAS MACEVILY.
Air—Woodman, Spare that Tree.
Traitors, spare that flag!
Look up at its bright folds,
And see within your hearts,
The baseness of your souls;
For that’s the proud old flag
Your sires oft fought under—
Are you, degenerate sons,
To tear it now asunder?
Traitors, spare that flag!
Or vengeance loud and deep
Will justly fall from Heaven,
And make you one day weep;
And the ashes of your fathers
Will rise from out the tomb
’Gainst their ungrateful dastards,
To curse the traitor’s doom.
Traitors, spare that flag!
If you would yet be free—
If you’ve the least regard
For homes and liberty;
If not, why, do your best;
We’ve men and means at hand
To spread it to the breeze
O’er all Columbia’s land.
Traitors, spare that flag!
You’ve done mischief enough:
You’ve stolen our gold and guns,
And talked vain boasting stuff;
Then, touch not that proud flag,
That banner of the free,
Lest vengeance dire and deep
May engulf you in misery.
A Life in the Soldier’s Camp.
BY JAS. O’C., COMPANY D, ANDERSON ZOUAVES.
Air—Life on the Ocean Wave.
A life in the soldier’s camp,
A home in the snow-white tent,
Where we hear the sentry tramp,
And merry hours are spent;
Where glory waits the brave,
On the bloody battle-field,
And the Stars and Stripes shall wave,
O’er Zouaves that never yield.
Come, shoulder your musket, boys,
And off to the field of strife;
Leave home, and all its joys,
And fly to a soldier’s life—
With knapsack on your back,
And canteen by your side—
To follow the foeman’s track,
Is the brave young Zouave’s pride.
The camp is the place for me,
When my country calls me there,
To fight for the Flag of the Free,
I’d live on homeliest fare;
When the tattoo beats at night,
And the reveille in the morn,
And the Zouave’s heart is light
As soon as the day is born.
Then farewell, home and friends,
For I’ve joined the volunteers;
I’ll be with him who defends
Our Flag, and never fears.
I’m off for the Zouaves’ camp,
I’m bound for Freedom’s Wars;
On the rebel flag I’ll tramp,
And fight for the Stripes and Stars.
A Soldier’s Dream of Home.
BY WILLIAM ADAMS.
Inscribed to Lieut. A. C. Calkins, 21st (Buffalo) Reg’t, N. Y. S. V.
Air—America.
Still is the mighty host,
Each sentry at his post,
’Tis midnight’s hour:
There on my pallet low,
My brain on fire—aglow
With scenes of long-ago—
Entrancing power!
Home of my boyhood’s hours,
Nestled ’mid shady bowers,
How dear thou art!
I’m with you once again,
Freed from the poignant pain
Of seeing brothers slain—
Never to part.
Kind friends and parents dear,
Brushing the silent tear,
Utter, “Welcome!
Let glee and joy abound,
Let songs and jokes go round,
A warrior’s here—we’ve found
Our only son!”
A ramble now I take
O’er glen and silvery lake,
Now doubly dear!
Slowly I tread South Hill,
Thro’ wood and over rill,
The buzz of yon old mill
Reaching my ear.
Alas! how brief the stay!
A twinkling—then away
From scenes I love!
Back to the battle-field,
Where wounded patriots bleed,
From harm, be Thou my shield,
Oh God! above.
A Yankee Volunteer.
I thought I’d better come to town,
I brought along my gun, sir;
We guessed quite likely there’d be work,
Or praps there might be fun, sir;
I heerd wild geese was plenty, now,
A comin’ from the south’ard,
And thought I’d like a shot at some—
If you ain’t too much bothered.
My father sends his duty, sir;
He says that things is growin’,
And wants to know what he can do
T’ help the men that’s goin’.
Mother, she looks kind o’ scared,
But fixed my things to come, sir;
She didn’t want me, jest, to start,
Nor jest to stay at home, sir.
There’s brother Jim, he’s fierce to fight,
“Too young, boy,” says the jury;
(Jim’s seventeen) so he gets mad
And works away like fury.
He’s nigh about as tall as I,
That’s six foot and a quarter,
(Han’t measured lately, but I guess
I can’t ha’ grown much shorter.)
Now, what d’ye spose Jerusha said,
With her black eyes a snappin’?
She’s jest my second cousin, sir,
One seldom caught a nappin’.
She said if she could see a man
A fightin’ for the flag, sir,
That she would give her new silk gown
And call it but a rag, sir.
I’d meant before to come, for sure,
But that was jest a clincher;
I never was a soldier, yit,
But might be at a pinch, sir.
I’ll try—and if my lamp goes out
Afore their shot and brag, sir,
Jest tell Jerusha how I died
A fightin’ for the flag, sir.
Three Cheers for Our Banner.
Copied by permission of Horace Waters, Music Publisher,
481 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
Three cheers for our Banner, the Stripes and the Stars,
The ensign of Liberty’s glorious wars!
Fling it out to the breezes, its colors display,
Let our Standard float boldly in face of the day.
We will stand by this Banner, through fire and flood,
We will guard and defend it, though crimson’d with blood.
CHORUS.
Then three cheers for our Banner, in peace and in wars,
We will ever be true to the Stripes and the Stars.
Three cheers for our Union, the land of our birth;
’Tis the fortress of freedom, the hope of the earth;
Arouse you, ye sons of the East and the West,
To defend it, though blood flow from each gallant breast;
Remember, a noble old poet has said,
’Tis sweet, for our country, to sleep with the dead.
The noble young heroes, who rescue her name,
Columbia will crown, with the garland of fame;
If they fall, she will weep o’er their glorious scars,
And will lay them to rest ’neath her Banner of Stars;
We know the Volunteers will always be found
In the van of the host, on the blood-redden’d ground.
Three cheers for Columbia, the queen of the world,
To the wind’s every quarter her flag be unfurled;
We have bowed at her feet, in the day of her pride,
Shall we basely desert her, now she is defied?
No! millions of voices will instant reply,
For freedom and country, we’ll dare and we’ll die.
The Flag of the Brave.
Air—Red, White and Blue.
Our tars are the lords of the ocean,
Our champions on the blue brine,
And ’mid the fierce battle’s commotion
Our banner, triumphant, shall shine!
They’ll win a proud mention in story
When cannon loud boom o’er the wave;
They’ll garland their banner with glory
In fight, ’neath the Flag of the Brave!
CHORUS.
In fight ’neath the Flag of the Brave!
In fight ’neath the Flag of the Brave!
They’ll garland their banner with glory,
In fight ’neath the Flag of the Brave!
As long as a sail dots the ocean,
Or sea-breezes blow o’er the deep,
As long as the earth keeps in motion,
Or stars their lone vigils shall keep—
So long shall Columbia’s brave seamen
Be monarchs upon the salt wave:
Three cheers for the valor of Freemen!
Three cheers for the Flag of the Brave!
Chorus—Three cheers for the Flag of the Brave!
Three cheers for the Flag of the Brave!
Three cheers for the valor of freemen!
Three cheers for the Flag of the Brave!
The Patriot Soldier.
Air—America, Commerce and Freedom.
How proud the steps a soldier treads,
His country’s cause defending;
And dear the blood a freeman sheds,
With glory’s laurels blending;
Though fiery tempest sweep his path,
In battle’s line appearing,
And death draw nigh, in lurid wrath,
All horrid shapes uprearing,
CHORUS.
Still, gallant and brave, he smiles at the grave,
And hastes to his comrades, to lead them;
In the field of red Mars, ’neath the Banner of Stars,
His war-cry is “Union and Freedom!”
In all the land, from South to North,
From East to West, he glories;
But fights to drive the traitors forth,
And rid its soil of tories!
No crafty words his faith can shake—
No force can make him falter;
He draws his sword for Union’s sake,
And strikes for Freedom’s altar!
For, gallant and brave, he smiles at the grave,
And flies to his comrades, to lead them;
In the field of red Mars, ’neath the Banner of Stars,
His war-cry is “Union and Freedom!”
Give us Room.
Air—Buy a Broom.
From Northland we come with our sharp-shooting rifles,
To chase Southern traitors from Liberty’s soil;
All heedless of Bull-Runs or such passing trifles,
We’re bound to march onward, through danger or toil.
CHORUS.
Give us room! give us room!
Give us room! give us room!
Our sharp-shooting rifles shall make for us room.
From Sumter we first heard the cannon’s loud booming—
O’er crimson Potomac the sound rose again;
And now from Missouri, where war-clouds are looming,
We hear the loud summons of true-hearted men.
Give us room! give us room!
Give us room! give us room!
Our sharp-shooting rifles will soon make us room.
Brave Cameron lies low with the sods of the valley,
And Lyon’s bold bosom is cold in the grave;
But again for the conflict their comrades still rally,
And pour out for Union the blood of the brave.
Give us room! give us room!
Give us room! give us room!
Our sharp-shooting rifles shall soon make us room.
The Union Marseillaise.
Air—The Marseilles Hymn.
Arise! Arise! ye sons, of patriot sires!
A Nation calls! and Heaven speed your way.
Now Freedom lights anew her waning fires,
And spreads her banner to the day,
And spreads her banner to the day.
While to His Throne our hearts are swelling,
Freedom, and Law, and Truth, and Right,
May God defend by his own might,
By his right arm the treason quelling
Ye loyal sons, and true,
Sons of the brave and free,
Join hearts, join hands, to strike anew
For God and Liberty.
With faith your all to Him confiding
Who crowned with victory our fathers’ hand,
With courage in his strength abiding,
Go forth in Freedom’s sacred band,
Go forth to save our native land.
Defend from faction’s wild commotion,
Our homes, our laws, our schools and spires,
The names and graves of patriot sires,
Till Freedom reigns to furthest ocean.
Ye loyal sons and true,
Sons of the brave and free,
Join hearts, join hands, to strike anew
For God and Liberty.
The Alarum.
BY R. H. STODDARD.
Men of the North and West,
Wake in your might,
Prepare, as the Rebels have done,
For the fight;
You cannot shrink from the test,
Rise! Men of the North and West!
They have torn down your banner of stars;
They have trampled the laws;
They have stifled the freedom they hate,
For no cause!
Do you love it, or slavery best?
Speak! Men of the North and West.
They strike at the life of the State—
Shall the murder be done?
They cry, “We are two!” And you?
“We are one!”
You must meet them, then, breast to breast,
On! men of the North and West!
Not with words—they laugh them to scorn,
And tears they despise;
But with swords in your hands, and death
In your eyes!
Strike home! leave to God all the rest,
Strike! Men of the North and West!
Battle Invocation.
BY JAMES G. CLARK.
Air—The Assyrian came down, etc.
Oh! spirits of Washington, Warren and Wayne!
Oh! shades of the Heroes and Patriots slain!
Come down from your mountains of emerald and gold,
And smile on the Banner ye cherished of old.
Descend in your glorified ranks to the strife,
Like legions sent forth from the armies of life;
Let us feel your deep presence, as waves feel the breeze
When the white fleets, like snow-flakes, are drank by the seas.
Proud sons of the soil where the Palmetto grows,
Once patriots and brothers, now traitors and foes,
Ye have turned from the path which our forefathers’ trod,
And stolen from man the best gift of his God.
Ye have trampled the tendrils of love in the ground,
Ye have scoffed at the law which the Nazarene found,
Till the great wheel of Justice seemed blocked for a time,
And the eyes of humanity blinded with crime.
As the vail which conceals the clear starlight is riven
When clouds strike together, by warring winds driven,
So the blood of the race must be offered like rain,
Ere the stars of our country are ransomed again.
The Patriot’s Address.
Air—Scots Wha Hae.
Patriot hearts and loyal souls!
Ye whose faith no fear controls—
Lo! the storm of treason rolls
Round your glorious liberty!
Rebel swords have struck your shield—
Traitor hands their poniards wield—
Miscreant tyrants bid ye yield
Power and place to slavery!
By your ancient heroes’ blood,
By their deeds on field and flood;
By the fruits of Freedom’s bud,
Sprung from northern loyalty—
Strike at once these daring foes—
Round their soil your legions close—
Bid them drain the cup of woes
They would fill for you and me.
Heaven is on the Freeman’s side—
God still rules the battle’s tide—
Heaven and God they have defied,
Who make war for slavery!
Let them feel a patriot’s ire,
Withering all their base desire—
Let our anger be as fire,
Blasting chains and tyranny!
The Patriot’s Wish.
BY ROBERT M. HART.
Air—The Star-Spangled Banner.
Oh God bless our land, and united once more,
May we gather true wisdom from war’s desolation;
From the thick curling smoke, and the fierce cannon’s roar,
Let peace in her beauty rise and smile on our nation;
To show to the world that peace is unfurled,
And war from Columbia forever is hurled,
CHORUS.
That the proud Ark of Freedom, with bold, trusty crew,
Still sails ’neath the banner of the Red, White and Blue.
Great God bless our land, for ’tis dyed in the gore
Of the good and the brave of a nation’s defenders;
Oh! may death’s fearful havoc molest us no more,
And Thy love fill the bosom as passion surrenders;
To show to the world that love is unfurled,
And hate from Columbia forever is hurled.
That the proud Ark, etc.
Oh God bless our land—may our eagle still fly,
And gaze on Columbia in proud adoration;
Let the sunlight of truth ever flash from his eye,
Urging freemen to duty in dark tribulation;
To show to the world that truth is unfurled,
Aught else from Columbia forever is hurled.
That the proud Ark, etc.
May the emblem we love, the Flag of the Free,
For all time to come be our shield and our protection,
Ever waving in glory on land and on sea,
Our shrine of devotion and fond recollection;
To show to the world our flag is unfurled,
And strife from Columbia forever is hurled.
That the proud Ark, etc.
The Union Harvesting.
Air—Old Oaken Bucket.
Oh, fair is the orchard, with russet fruit laden,
And bright is the cornfield, all golden with grain,
And sweet is the garden, where matron and maiden,
Sit listening at eve to the whippowil’s strain;
But fairer, and brighter, and sweeter, and dearer,
Are the orchards of crimson, the fields of bright red,
And the flow’rets immortal that hallow the wearer,
Whose blood for his country is loyally shed,
In the orchards of Union, the cornfields of Union,
The gardens of Union, for Liberty shed.
Though the reaper be Death, and his garner the charnel,
And the wine-press o’erflow with our patriot blood—
Though the furrows run red with a vintage incarnal,
Who will shrink from the field? who will pause at the flood?
Who will measure the grain while ’tis standing or falling?
Who will count what is lost, till the day shall be won?
While the sun shines aloft, while the Master is calling,
In the field be our place, till the field-work is done!
In the orchards of Union, the cornfields of Union,
The gardens of Union, till victory is won.