Gone to the rice-swamps—dragging their chains.
Onward, etc.
The War-cry is sounding on our Northern hills,
Free hearts are bounding—Liberty yet thrills.
Screams our wild Eagle, soaring to the sky,
God sent him here to live—our bird shall not die.
Onward, etc.
FREEMEN WIN WHEN LINCOLN LEADS,
Air—“Lutzow’s Wild Hunt.”