THE HORSE MARINES AT GALVESTON.

Air—“Barring of the Door.”

It was on a New Year’s morn so soon,
Before the break of day, Oh!
General Magruder had laid his plan
To catch the Yankees in the Bay, Oh!
Chorus.—Skedaddle, skedaddle, leave horse, spur and saddle,
Charge! Horse Marines, with a hoo-way!
Skedaddle, skedaddle, the Yankees will toddle;
Rush on them with pistol and bowie—
O, skedaddle!
Magruder march’d down through Galveston town,
And placed his men on the shore, Oh!
And the fight then began when he fired the first gun,
And the fleet replied with a roar, Oh!
Chorus.
The Yankees’ big shot flew fast, thick and hot,
They thought they’d gain’d the day, Oh!
When Bagby and Green, with the new Horse Marine,
Came rushing down the Bay, Oh!
Chorus.

The two bayou boats went to butting like goats,
The big steamer’s deck to gain, Oh!
Then L’on Smith, that trump, he made the first jump,
Right abroad of the Harriet Lane, Oh!
Chorus.
Let it not be forgotten, that Jim Dowlan, the Briton,
Pitch’d in through flood and through flame, Oh!
From the sinking boat swam to the Bayou City ram,
And boarded the Harriet Lane, Oh!
Chorus.
Then flew the white flag o’er the Federal rag;
The Yankees cried stop! just at light, Oh!
By cunning and lies, to get off with the prize
We had fairly won in the fight, Oh!
Chorus.
But General Bill Scurry, was in too great a hurry,
To wait for a three hours’ truce, Oh!
He bagged all ashore, and would have bagged more,
Had any been lying around loose, Oh!
Chorus.
Old General Magruder will let no intruder
Our soil with his footsteps pollute, Oh!
The Arizona Brigade, with L’on Smith as aid,
Will send them to—Butler, the brute, Oh!
Chorus.
Then rejoice, O rejoice, ye Texans, rejoice;
Charge! Horse Marines, with a hoo-way!
The invaders are dead, ta’en pris’ner, or fled—
They can’t stand the pistol and bowie.
Chorus.

I’M THINKING OF THE SOLDIER.

By Mary E. Smith, of Austin, Texas.

O, I’m thinking of the soldier as the evening shadows fall,
As the twilight fairy sketches her sad picture on the wall;
As the trees are resting sadly on the waveless silence deep,
Like the barks upon the ocean when the winds are hush’d to sleep.
All my soul is with the absent, as the evening shadows fall;
While the ghosts of night are spreading o’er the dying light a pall;
As the robes of day are trailing in the halls of eventide,
And yon radiant star is wooing blushing eve to be his bride.
I have shunn’d the cosy parlor—for a silence lingers there,
Since our lov’d one went to battle, and we find a vacant chair;
And a sigh is stealing upward, as the evening spirits come,
With the zephyrs, to the bowers of this sadly deserted home.
For when soft “good nights” are ended there’s a room not like the rest,
Since a soldier left that chamber and that pillow is unprest;
O, my soul is in a shadow, and my heart cannot be gay,
As the eve with low refraining comes to shroud the dying day.