Swear upon your Country's altar,
Never to submit or falter;
To arms! etc.
Till the spoilers are defeated,
Till the Lord's work is completed.
To arms! etc.
Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.
VII.
Halt not till our Federation
Secures among earth's Powers its station!
To arms! etc.
Then at peace, and crowned with glory,
Hear your children tell the story!
To arms! etc.
Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.
VIII.
If the loved ones weep in sadness,
Victory soon shall bring them gladness;
To arms! etc.
Exultant pride soon banish sorrow;
Smiles chase tears away to-morrow.
To arms! etc.
Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.
The Old Rifleman.
By Frank Ticknor, of Georgia.
Now bring me out my buckskin suit!
My pouch and powder, too!
We'll see if seventy-six can shoot
As sixteen used to do.
Old Bess! we've kept our barrels bright!
Our trigger quick and true!
As far, if not as fine a sight,
As long ago we drew!
And pick me out a trusty flint!
A real white and blue,
Perhaps 'twill win the other tint
Before the hunt is through!