Before the Battle.
The clarion call of liberty
Rings on the startled gales!
The rising hills reverberate
The rising of the vales!
Through all the land the thrilling shout
Swift as an arrow goes!
Columbia's champions arm and out
To battle with her foes!
After the Battle
The bugle-song of victory
Is vocal in the air!
The strains, by warrior-voices breathed,
Are echoed by the fair!
The eagle, with the wreath, blood-bought,
Soars proudly to the sun,
Proclaiming the "good fight is fought,
And the great victory won!"
A Parody.
On old Long Island's sea-girt shore
We caught a cod the other day;
He never had been there before,
And wished that he had stayed away.
We laid him on the beach to dry,
Then served him frizzled on a dish,
A warning to the smaller fry,
As well as all the larger fish.
O—o—o—o—o!
On old Long Island's sea-girt shore
We caught a cod the other day;
He never had been there before,
And wished that he had stayed away.
Oh, 'twas a scaly thing to haul
This tom-cod from his native spray,
And thus to frighten, one and all,
The finny tribe from Rockaway!
They shun the fisher's hook and line,
And never venture near his net,
So, when at Rockaway you dine,
Now not a thing but clams you get!
O—o—o—o—o!
On old Long Island's sea-girt shore
We caught a cod the other day;
He never had been there before,
And wished that he had stayed away!
Should critics at my ballad carp,
To them this simple truth I'll say,
The grammar's quite as good as Sharp
Wrote on the beach of Rockaway:
The tune's the same that Russell cribbed
With the addition of his O,
Which makes it, or the singer fibbed,
Original and all the go—
O—o—o—o—o!
On old Long Island's sea-girt shore
We caught a cod the other day;
He never had been there before,
And wished that he had stayed away!
The Stag-Hunt.
The morning is breaking—
The stag is away!
The hounds and the hunters
The signal obey!
The horn bids the echoes
Awake as we go,
And nature is jocund
With hark!—tally-ho!
Hark away!
Tally-ho!