Hear the spattering fire that starts
From the woods and the copses gray,
There is just enough fighting to quicken our hearts,
As we frolic along the way!
There is just enough fighting to warm our hearts,
As we rattle along the way.
Upon different roads, abreast,
The heads of our columns gay,
With fluttering flags, all forward pressed,
Hold on their conquering way;
With fluttering flags to victory pressed,
We hold our glorious way.
Ah, traitors! who bragged so bold
In the sad war's early day,
Did nothing predict you should ever behold
The Old Flag come this way?
Did nothing predict you should yet behold
Our banner come back this way?
By heaven! 'tis a gala march,
'Tis a picnic or a play;
Of all our long war 'tis the crowning arch,
Hip, hip! for Sherman's way!
Of all our long war this crowns the arch—
For Sherman and Grant, hurrah!
Charles Graham Halpine.
Bring the good old bugle, boys, we'll sing another song—
Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along—
Sing it as we used to sing it fifty thousand strong,
While we were marching through Georgia.
Chorus—"Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!"
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching through Georgia.
How the darkeys shouted when they heard the joyful sound!
How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary found!
How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground,
While we were marching through Georgia.
Yes, and there were Union men who wept with joyful tears,
When they saw the honored flag they had not seen for years;
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers,
While we were marching through Georgia.
"Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never reach the coast!"
So the saucy rebels said—and 'twas a handsome boast,
Had they not forgot, alas! to reckon on a host,
While we were marching through Georgia.