The Flag and the Union.
Air—Bay of Biscay, O!
Loud roared Disunion’s thunder,
And Treason’s fires burned red;
Our nation, rent asunder,
Beheld the tempest dread;
From Sumter’s blazing spars,
Our glorious flag of stars,
Torn away,
Prostrate lay,
Under sway of Rebels, O!
But upward rose our Nation,
Aroused by war’s alarms;
With one loud declaration
The people sprung to arms—
“Our Flag,” they cried, “shall wave!
Our Union we will save!
Clear the way,
For the fray!
We’ll repay these Rebels, O!”
“Our course by heaven is guided—
Its goal yet shines afar—
Our Union undivided—
Our flag with every star!
From Rio Grande’s shore,
To ice-bound Labrador,
Land and sea
Shall be free
From the sway of Rebels, O!”
Draw the Sword, Northland.
Air—Draw the Sword, Scotland.
Draw the sword, Northland! Northland! Northland!
Too long have we parleyed with insolent foes;
Arise for the Union, Union, Union!
Even as for freedom our fathers arose!
From valleys and mountains, clustering, clustering,
From forest and prairie, and shores of the sea;
For Freedom’s great battle-field mustering, mustering,
Beneath the star-banner, the Flag of the Free!
Draw the sword, Northland! Northland! Northland!
Charge on Rebellion and all its dark powers;
Strike for the Union, Union, Union!
He who holds back is no comrade of ours!
Sheathe the sword, Northland! Northland! Northland!
Only when Rebels no longer contend—
Only when Union, Union, Union!
Shall weld a new bond that no Treason can rend!
When the dread struggle is over, over,
And Liberty’s duty is fairly done,
We will offer our hands to the vanquished, vanquished,
And bid them be once more the Many in One!
Sheathe the sword, Northland! Northland! Northland!
Only when Treason no longer lowers!
Only when Union, Union, Union!
For all the great Future, is ours, still ours!
The Great Union Club.
BY ROBERT M. HART.
Air—Villikins and Dinah.
There is an old gent and his name it is Abe,
He is a rail-splitter, for so it is said,
But for the whole Union he ever was true,
And thought it a farce to split it in two.
CHORUS.
Rub-be-dub, rub-be-dub, rub-be-dub, dub,
Oh march to the tap of the rub-be-dub, dub,
Old Abe he is raising a “Great Union Club,”
To give the Seceshers a very hard rub.
When Abe was elected ’twas late in the Fall,
As President, over Seceshers and all,
And by all the rails in the Union did swear—
Jacksonian like—to act on the square.
Seceshers were trying to frighten old Abe,
By blowing and stealing—their favorite trade—
But when they had made a considerable noise,
Old Abe gave a yell for some of “The Boys.”
The yell it was heard, and it had its effect,
To play “Help your neighbor,” “The Boys” did collect;
Secesh “couldn’t see it”—he found he was matched,
Had counted his chickens before they were hatched.
To fence in the Union, without any bars,
Old Abe is at work by the light of the Stars;
It soon will be finished, and when he is through,
He’ll paint it all over with Red, White and Blue.
Hurrah for the Land we Love.
Air—A Life on the Ocean Wave.
Hurrah for the land we love!
Hurrah for the laws we keep!
Our Banner we’ve nailed above,
And our Faith is anchored deep!
Let the trembling knave betray,
Let the paltry changeling fly;
There will come an answering day,
For our Cause can never die.
CHORUS.
Then, hurrah for the land we love,
And hurrah for the laws we keep!
Our Banner is nailed above,
And our Faith is anchored deep!
A lesson the traitors teach,
And a lesson the cowards give,
’Tis easy the Right to preach,
But ’tis harder the Right to live!
We laugh at the weak-kneed crew
Who shiver on Faction’s shore;
But with Brothers yet firm and true,
We’ll meet Disunion’s roar.
Then hurrah, etc.
The Flag of the Free.
Air—O saw ye the Lass with the bonny blue E’en?
Oh saw ye the Flag with the Thirty-four Stars?
’Tis red with the glories of Liberty’s wars;
’Tis bright as the sunbeam, and blue as the sky,
’Tis the loveliest banner that waveth on high.
The home of that Flag is each patriot’s heart—
From Freedom and Union it never can part;
For wherever it floateth, on land or on sea,
Every nation proclaims it the Flag of the Free!
Though the hand of dark Treason its luster would mar,
It shall yield not a stripe, it shall lose not a star;
But forevermore planted on Liberty’s rock,
Every storm it will breast, and defy every shock.
While the broad Mississippi flows down to the main,
And the blue Alleghanies arise from the plain—
While Niagara’s waters unshackled shall be,
It will wave o’er our Union, the Flag of the Free!
Gathering Song.
Air—Bonny Boat.
Oh, gayly sound the bugles shrill,
Adown the mountain-glen,
And loudly on the breezes thrill
The songs of loyal men!
Still marching on with iron tramp
To battle’s wild accords,
They point to vile Rebellion’s camp,
And clash their fathers’ swords!
Oh, proudly throbs each patriot’s heart,
When, thundering from afar,
O’er woodland-glen, or mountain-crest,
Upswells the loud hurrah!
While trumpet-peal and rattling drum,
And wild artillery’s roar,
Proclaim that Freedom’s soldiers come
As came their sires of yore.
Liberty.
Air—Somebody’s Waiting for Somebody.
Cloudy and dark is the heaven,
Darksome and doubtful for Liberty;
But there’s a cloud or two riven,
Showing the bright light of Liberty;
Out of the midst of all gloom,
Shines the fair promise of Liberty—
Over each patriot’s tomb,
Rises the day-star of Liberty,
Rises the day-star of Liberty!
There will be battles to fight,
Battles defending our Liberty!
There will be traitors to smite,
Traitors who strike at our Liberty!
But when our triumph shall come,
Over the foemen of Liberty,
Who will consider the sum
Spent in defense of our Liberty?
Spent in defense of our Liberty?
Lift up the Banner of Stars,
Fling out the colors of Liberty;
Over all shackles and bars,
We will march forward to Liberty!
Union and laws we’ll defend,
Guided and guarded by Liberty,
Till, at the glorious end,
All the world shares in our Liberty,
All the world shares in our Liberty!
Wife of my Bosom.
Air—Kathleen Mavourneen.
Wife of my bosom, the midnight hangs o’er me,
And shadow and silence encompass our camp;
Oh, dark is my heart, like the darkness before me,
Wife of my bosom, while lonely I tramp;
’Tis not that I falter, or fear the red morrow,
When true men give battle to rebels forsworn,
But the heart of each soldier may have its own sorrow,
And ’tis thinking of thee, love, makes mine so forlorn.
Wife of my bosom, the night-hours are lonely,
And lonesome my heart, as I tread my dark round;
But through all the dim watches I’ve thought of thee only,
Wife of my bosom, with yearning profound.
Now the day breaks, and the drums call to battle,
While cannon’s deep thunder announces the morn;
Full gladly I welcome the din and the rattle,
’Tis only for thee, wife, my heart is forlorn.
Wife of my bosom, in God’s blessed keeping
Our lives are still mingled, though parted are we;
Above us He watcheth, with mercies unsleeping,
Wife of my bosom, o’er thee and o’er me.
I dare the wild conflict, where lives must be rended,
But faith in my bosom now brightens with morn;
By thy prayers in the past I have still been defended,
And He whom we trust will not leave thee forlorn.
The Union Sacrifice.
BY MRS. METTA. V. VICTOR.
“Who will save the land we cherish?
People! what have you to give,
That, our country may not perish—
That our liberties may live?”
Hark! the answer quickly thrilling:—
“Half a million volunteers
Rally round our standard, filling
Freedom’s air with freemen’s cheers!
“See our men go forth to battle,
Take the soldier’s hardy fare,
Face the fearful cannon’s rattle,
Danger, death and drudgery bear.
“What give you, heroic women,
Loving mothers, tender wives?”
Comes the answer superhuman:
“We give up our dear ones’ lives!
“We remain at home to suffer—
Not to rest in idle ease.
Men’s stern duties may be rougher,
But they can not equal these;—
“Nights of wretched, restless tossing,
Guessing at the toils unshared—
Fields and streams at midnight crossing,
Keeping lonely picket guard;
“Days of terror and of weeping—
Of suspense that holds the breath,
While the rosy infant, sleeping,
Dreams not of its father’s death.
“News that comes too sure and often
To the mothers at their work,—
With no circumstance to soften
All the woes that in it lurk—
“How the sons, at home surrounded
By their fond and patient care,
On the battle-field lie wounded,
Dying, dead,—no mother there!”
Rich men give up golden treasures—
Money, ships and merchandise;
Brave men give up care and pleasures
For the liberties they prize!
But no holier gifts are proffered
By the hero’s heart and hand,
Than the sacrifices offered
By the women of the Land!
Blue Jackets, Fall in!
Air—Bonny Dundee.
Let the plotters of treason their standard forsake,
And abandon the eagle for vulture or snake;
But the man who’s a true man, wherever he be,
Follows only one banner—the Flag of the Free.
CHORUS.
Then sound to the color! Blue Jackets, fall in!
There’s a march to be made, and a battle to win!
There are rebels and traitors to scour from the lea,
So make room for our banner—the Flag of the Free.
To the soft southern breezes our colors are spread,
By the bravest and noblest they’re followed and led,
And wherever they wave, in the battle’s red van,
They are symbols of justice and freedom for man.
Then sound to the color, etc.
Jeff. Davis may menace, and Beauregard rage,
And defyingly strut their brief hour on the stage;
But their empire is ruin—their triumph is shame,
And the wrath they provoke will consume them like flame.
Then sound to the color, etc.
Song of the Zouaves.
Air—The Plains of Mexico.
Dash on, dash on, my gallant Zouaves,
Where dangers darkly frown;
Let Freedom bravely nerve your arms,
Strike every traitor down.
What though their murd’rous squadrons stand,
In stern and fierce array;
We’ll make them feel our sweeping charge,
And quickly clear the way.
This Union, which so long hath been
The shelt’ring home of all
Fair Freedom’s valiant, holy band,
Shall not by traitors fall;
But it will stand, through storm and strife,
The home of Freedom’s band,
And naught shall cause its overthrow,
While strength lies in our hand.
Though years may roll their onward course,
Our hands shall ne’er be stayed,
Till Freedom’s land be free from strife,
And in sweet peace arrayed.
And now, farewell to home and friends,
And if we ne’er return,
’Twill be because the gallant Sixth
All death and danger spurn.
The Northmen are Coming.
Air—I’m Going to be Married.
The Northmen are coming, Oho! oho!
The Northmen are coming, Oho! oho!
The Northmen, the Northmen,
The warriors of Freedom!
The Northmen are coming, Oho! oho!
Their star-spangled banners I see, I see!
The plume-crested horsemen I see, I see!
Down mountain and valley the hosts are streaming,
And shouting the battle-cry, “One and Free.”
The Northmen are coming, etc.
The peal of their bugles I hear, I hear!
The clangor of trumpets I hear, I hear!
The banners outflame like the blazing morn,
O’er billows of bayonet, sword and spear.
The Northmen are coming, etc.
With rattle of musket they come, they come!
With thunder of cannon, they come, they come!
With tempest of fire, and storm of steel,
To drive out the traitors from Freedom’s home.
The Northmen are coming, etc.
The boom of their cannon is Tyranny’s knell;
Wherever they battle shall Liberty dwell;
They fight for the holiest hope of man,
They triumph with Washington, Bruce and Tell.
The Northmen are coming, etc.
They come with the banners our sires unfurled,
Unfurled for the exile, the bondman, the world,
And Heaven shall speed their victorious march,
Till Liberty’s foes to the dust be hurled.
The Northmen are coming, etc.
The Volunteer Yankee Doodle of ’61.
Copied by permission of Horace Waters, Music Publisher,
481 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
Yankee Doodle comes to town,
Walking on his feet, sir!
Shouldered gun and soldier’s gown,
Yankee can’t be beat, sir!
In his bosom burns a love
For his glorious country,
Sparkling like the stars above,
Ay! much less it won’t be.
Yankee Doodle, keep it up;
Yankee doodle dandy,
Plant your bayonet on the top,
And wi’ the gun be handy!
Yankee Doodle, etc.
Yankee Doodle marches on
Till the foes he’ll meet, sir!
Shoots at least a dozen down—
Yankee can’t be beat, sir!
For the Stars and Stripes he’ll fight,
For the Constitution;
Put the enemy to flight,
End the Revolution.
Yankee Doodle, keep it up;
Yankee doodle dandy,
Plant your bayonet on the top,
And wi’ the gun be handy!
Victory gained, he takes his ease
At his country seat, sir!
Following the arts of peace,
Yankee can’t be beat, sir!
Plenty yields his native soil,
Faithful to his labor;
And the Lord rewards his toil,
Grants him every favor.
Yankee Doodle, keep it up;
Yankee doodle dandy,
Plant your corn, and reap your crop,
And wi’ the plough be handy!
Flag Song.
Air—The Land of the Leal.
Come, lift it on high, boys!
Once more let it fly, boys,
We’ll fight and we’ll die
For the Red, White and Blue!
’Twas hallowed before, boys,
In battles of yore, boys,
We’ll guard it once more
With our bosoms so true!
Then fling out the flag, boys,
From spar and from crag, boys,
No freeman shall lag
While there’s fighting to do:
To the front of the fray, boys,
We’ll soon find the way, boys,
And yet win the day
For our Red, White and Blue!
Our Country, Now and Ever.
Copied by permission of Horace Waters, Music Publisher,
481 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
Our Country, now and ever!
Land of the good and free!
What daring hand would sever
The ties of Liberty?
Let him be known as traitor,
And traitor shall he be;
Who would insult this nation
Must first himself be free.
For such are slaves and cowards—
Their names a thing of shame;
To endless time our Union
Will but increase in fame.
Fight, comrades, for our nation,
For Freedom’s holy light;
In union is salvation,
God will protect the right.
My Love he is a Zou-zu.
My love is a Zou-zu so gallant and bold,
He’s rough and he’s handsome, scarce nineteen years old,
To show off in Washington, he has left his own dear,
And my heart is a-breaking because he’s not here.
CHORUS.
For his spirit was brave; it was fierce to behold,
In a young man bred a Zou-zu, only nineteen years old.
His parents taught him to be a Cavalier,
But the life of a Zou-zu he much did prefer;
For his heart’s with his Country in right or in wrong,
And in Richmond with Burnside, he’ll be afore long.
For his spirit, etc.
My fond heart is beating for him constantly,
But I fear his affections may waver from me;
For a sweetheart can be found in each State, I am told,
By a young man, a Zou-zu, only nineteen years old.
For his spirit, etc.
And now for my Zou-zu I grieve and repine,
For fear that his brave heart may never be mine;
All the wealth of Jeff. Davis in cotton or gold,
I would give for my Zou-zu, only nineteen years old.
For his spirit, etc.
The Stripes and Stars.
Air—The Low-backed Car.
Let cowards shirk their duty,
And falter from the fray;
My post I’ll find, nor shrink behind,
When honor calls away.
For Union and for Freedom,
I’ll wield a sword or gun,
And take my stand, for laws and land,
Till the battle’s nobly won.
CHORUS.
For I follow the Stripes and Stars,
No matter for wounds or scars,
And I’ll act my part,
With my arm and heart,
In defense of the Stripes and Stars.
The truth is past denying,
That danger’s close at hand,
And I do love, all things above,
My own dear native land.
So where the conflict rages,
And where our foemen be,
To stand or fall, at Union’s call,
There is the place for me. [Chorus.
May God bless those who love me,
And those I love defend;
If life I give, to those who live
My dear ones I commend.
But while the cannon’s booming,
And trumpets loudly blare,
The Union’s cause, the land and laws,
Must be my only care. [Chorus.
Hark to the Tread.
Hark! hark! to the tread
Of men of olden time,
The footsteps of the mighty dead
Still sounding on sublime.
Our Union’s strong foundations
They planted broad and deep,
And we, among the nations,
Our own proud place will keep!
CHORUS.
Join hearts! join hands!
A wreath of glory twine,
Of palm and mountain pine.
Strike hands!
The Union stands!
Now, now is the hour
To let foul Treason know,
That patriot legions have the power
To work its overthrow;
That while the conflict rages,
And hearts are sorely tried,
The Hand that guides the ages
Is lifted on our side.
Tell, tell to your sons
The story of your sires,
And that the pledge forever runs
To guard their sacred fires.
Tell them the great Avenger
Unsheathed his awful sword,
When Freedom was in danger,
And smote the rebel horde!
The Old Flag Alone.
Air—Old Folks at Home.
Strongly the traitors now are banded,
Fierce are they grown,
By rebel demagogues commanded,
Laws overthrown;
Cursing the banner of their fathers,
Madly they swarm,
Hurling against the Rock of Union,
Daring Rebellion’s storm.
But true hearts can never falter,
Now their faith is shown;
So we stand by Freedom’s altar,
True to the Old Flag alone!
Once in the land we all were true men,
Joined hand in hand;
Now Treason’s madness makes them foemen,
Cumbering the land;
So we must treat them as we find them,
“Enemies in war;”
Fighting against the Flag of Union,
Friends they can never be, more.
Our true hearts shall never falter,
Here our faith is shown,
Standing now by Freedom’s altar,
True to the Old Flag alone!
The Birth of Our Banner.
BY ROBERT M. HART.
Air—Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean.
When the dawn of creation was budding,
To blossom in bright, balmy day,
The Goddess of Light, at her waking,
Was shrouded with curtains of spray,
That rose as the incense of morning,
From valleys resplendent with dew,
To deck the broad ocean of distance
In tints of the White, Red and Blue.
And far in the blue dome of heaven,
Were stars with a soft, holy ray,
That have shone in an unbroken union
While ages have mouldered away;
And Freedom, when journeying hither,
The earth with its blessings to strew,
Has gathered these trophies of glory,
As gems for the White, Red and Blue.
When man braved the wrath of Jehovah,
The flood-gates of heaven arose
To deluge the earth, in his anger,
And drive from existence his foes;
Still justice was tempered with mercy—
On cloud-crested banners he drew
His promise to all generations,
In symbols of White, Red and Blue.
And thus is our Banner of Freedom
But tints of the glories above
Of Him who has made us a nation,
And bound us with garlands of love—
Which none on the earth can dissever,
For each on our altars renew
Our oath of unshaken devotion
And trust in the White, Red and Blue.
“E Pluribus Unum.”
BY JOHN PIERPONT.
Air—Star-Spangled Banner.
The harp of the minstrel with melody rings
When the Muses have taught him to touch and to tune it;
But though it may have a full octave of strings,
To both maker and minstrel the harp is a unit.
So the power that creates our republic of States,
Into harmony brings them at different dates;
And the thirteen or thirty, the Union once done,
Are “E Pluribus Unum”—of many made one.
The science that weighs in her balance the spheres,
And watched them since first the Chaldean began it,
Now and then, as she counts them and measures their years,
Brings into our system and names a new planet.
Yet the old and new stars—Venus, Neptune and Mars,
As they drive round the sun their invisible cars,
Whether faster or slower their races they run,
Are “E Pluribus Unum”—of many made one.
Of that system of spheres, should but one fly the track,
Or with others conspire for a general dispersion,
By the great central orb they would all be brought back,
And held, each in her place, by a wholesome coercion.
Should one daughter of light be indulged in her flight,
They would all be engulfed by old Chaos and Night;
So must none of our sisters be suffered to run,
For, “E Pluribus Unum”—we all go if one.
Let the demon of discord our melody mar,
Or Treason’s red hand rend our Union asunder,
Break one string from our harp, or extinguish one star,
The whole system’s ablaze with its lightning and thunder.
Let the discord be hushed! Let the traitors be crushed!
Though “Legion” their name, all with victory flushed!
For aye must our motto stand, fronting the sun:
“E Pluribus Unum”—Though many, we’re ONE.
The Northern Hurrah.
Air—Sprig of Shillaly.
Oh, brave is the soul of a true Union man!
He arms for the battle—he springs to the van,
To the war-shout of freemen—the Northern Hurrah!
His heart bears no malice—his lips have no lie!
For the old Constitution his pulses beat high;
And in camp or in action, in march or at rest,
’Tis the love of Our Union that leaps from his breast
In the war-shout of freemen—the Northern Hurrah!
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
Oh, the slogan of Scotland is startling and shrill,
And the loud Marseillaise every Frenchman will thrill;
But there’s never a shout like the Northern Hurrah!
Let the Turkman cry “Allah!” while charging his foe—
And the Briton, “St. George!” with each resolute blow;
But the wildest of war-cries, the slogan most grand,
Is the chorus that leaps from the heart of our land
In the war-shout of freedom—the Northern Hurrah!
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
From the mountains of Hampshire, the headlands of Maine,
Alleghany’s blue peaks and Nevada’s high chain,
Rolleth down, like the thunder, this Northern Hurrah;
And the rocks and the vales, and the waters profound,
And the forests and prairies re-echo the sound;
And the voice of great cities, from east and from west,
Swells the shout of the free for the land they love best,
In a war-hymn for freedom—the Northern Hurrah!
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
The Harp of Old Erin and Banner of Stars.
Air—St. Patrick’s Day.
The war-trump has sounded, our rights are in danger;
Shall the brave sons of Erin be deaf to the call,
When freedom demands of both native and stranger,
Their aid, lest the greatest of nations should fall?
Shall this banner, so dear to the exiles of Gael,
By traitors and rebels, in anarchy’s school,
Be trailed in the dust, disgraced in the vale,
While our people, the sov’reign, in equity rule?
No: I swear by the love that we bear our old Sire-land,
And the vows we have pledged to this home of the free,
As we’d sheathe our swords in the foes of dear Ireland,
We will use them as freely ’gainst traitors to thee.
Need we fear for our cause when true hearts uphold it?
See the men of all nations now march to the wars;
And shall Erin’s stout hearts stand by and behold it,
Nor strike in their might for the Banner of Stars?
No, no; with their life’s blood they’ll guard the rich treasure;
See how they respond to the call, “Shoulder Arms!”
Though endeared by those sacred ties, love beyond measure
Of bosom-friends, children, and beauty’s sweet charms,
Yet they leave all behind, and equip for the battle
Between freedom and rapine, like true sons of Mars;
They’ll conquer though traitors their cannon may rattle,
And bring back triumphant the Banner of Stars.
Oh! long may our flags wave in Union together,
And the harp of green Erin still kiss the same breeze,
And brave ev’ry storm that beclouds the fair weather,
Till our harp, like the Stars, floats o’er, rivers and seas.
God prosper manly soul-heart, on both land and ocean,
That goes in defiance of danger and scars,
And send them safe home, to their wives and their sweethearts,
With the harp of old Erin and Banner of Stars.
The Delaware Volunteers.
Come all you young men that do intend to roam
From the State of Delaware, a long way from home,
Cruising down around the banks of the Southern States hi O,
Through sweet and shady groves,
Through the rebel States we’ll ramble and we’ll hang Jeff. Davis, O.
There’s fishes in the Delaware that’s fitting for our use,
Likewise the sugar-cane that yields to us its juice,
There’s plenty of good Union men for the Stars and Stripes, you know,
Cruising down around the banks, etc.
Come all you young girls, and spin us some yarn,
You can make us clothing to keep ourselves warm,
And you can knit and spin, my girls, while we can reap and mow;
Cruising down around, etc.
If any of them Southerners dare to come nigh,
We’ll rush into the States, and conquer or we’ll die;
We’ll rush into the ranks and strike a powerful blow,
Cruising down around, etc.
Our Flag.
BY R. W. MACGOWAN.
Air—The American Boy.
We’ll rally round the same old Flag
Our fathers did of yore,
And bravely fight beneath those folds
They hallowed with their gore;
We’ll guard it as a sacred trust
With our devoted band,
And shield it from the treachery
Of the Southron’s murd’rous hand.
What though we had a traitor Twiggs,
An Arnold we’d before;
But we have still our loyal North,
That keeps the oath it swore.
As brave as ever to the breeze
Our noble Flag’s unfurled,
The pride and blessing of our land,
The envy of the world.
And eager thousands grasp the sword,
The scabbard thrown away;
With willing hands and faithful hearts,
They’re ready for the fray,
To teach the Southern fratricide
The Stars and Stripes shall wave
O’er this the land of liberty,
The birthplace of the brave.