WAR SONG.[4]

Air—“March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale.”

March, march on, brave “Palmetto” boys,
“Sumter” and “Lafayettes” forward in order;
March, march, “Calhoun” and “Rifle” boys,
All the base Yankees are crossing the border.
Banners are round ye spread,
Floating above your head,
Soon shall the Lone Star be famous in story,
On, on, my gallant men,
Vict’ry be thine again;
Fight for your rights, till the green sod is gory.
March, march, etc.
Young wives and sisters have buckled your armor on;
Maidens ye love bid ye go to the battle-field;
Strong arms and stout hearts have many a vict’ry won,
Courage shall strengthen the weapons ye wield.
Wild passions are storming,
Dark schemes are forming,
Deep snares are laid, but they shall not enthrall ye;
Justice your cause shall greet,
Laurels lay at your feet,
If each brave band be watchful and wary.
March, march, etc.
Let fear and unmanliness vanish before ye;
Trust in the Rock who will shelter the righteous;
Plant firmly each step on the soil of the free—
A heritage left by the sires who bled for us.
May each heart be bounding,
When trumpets are sounding,
And the dark traitors shall strive to surround ye;
The great God of Battle
Can still the war-rattle,
And brighten the land with a sunset of glory.
March, march, etc.

VIRGINIA—LATE BUT SURE!

BY W. H. HOLCOMBE.

The foe has hemmed us round: we stand at bay,
Here we will perish, or be free to-day!
To drum and bugle sternly sounding,
The Southern soldier’s heart is bounding;
But stay—oh stay! Virginia is not here!
Hush your strains of martial cheer;
O bugle, peace!
O war-drum, cease!
Virginia is not here!
Suspend, O chief, your word of fight!
She will be soon in sight!
Her children never called in vain!
She comes not—comes not: the disgrace
Were bitterer than the tyrant’s chain!
Oh, death! we dare thee face to face!
A gun! the foe’s defiant shot—be still!
Hurrah! an answering gun behind the hill;
And o’er its summit wildly streaming
The squadrons of Virginia gleaming![5]
Hurrah! hurrah! the Old Dominion comes!
Blow your bugles! beat your drums!
O doubt accurst!
The last is first—
The Old Dominion comes!
She grasps her thunderbolts of war;
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
Now loose, O chief! your battle storm!
We hang impatient on your breath;
Here in the flashing front we form!
Virginia!—victory or death!