To tell de boys ob my observations,
Far away, etc.,
Made by myself in de British nation--
I'll tell de trufe widout "sensation,"
Far away, etc.
CHORUS.
I've been across de Atlantic Ocean,
Where dey all do make so great commotion,
Far away, etc.,
About de war and cotton "famine,"
Dey talk a heap of "twaddle and gammon,"
Far away, etc.
CHORUS.
For in dis English land I've bin in,
Dey've got no cotton for de spinnin',
Hard times, etc.,
For de warehousemen of Manchester,
De spinners, too, of Lancashire,
Far away, etc.
CHORUS.
Some say, "Make muslin widout cotton,"
Others, "O no, 'twill be too rotten;"
Talk away, etc.,
Some say, "From India we'll get plenty,
From Egypt, Greenland and Ashantee,"
Far away, etc.
CHORUS.
Dey'se holdin' meetin's night and day,
To find out soon some oder way,
Some way, etc.,
To git dere cotton widout you,
But dat's a fac' dey'll nebber do,
Far away, etc.
CHORUS.
For it will take six million bales
For de mills ob England, Scotland, Wales,
Spin away, etc.,
To feed de spinnin' mules and jennies,
Dere boys and gals and pickaninnies,
Far away, etc.
CHORUS.
Now dis will take a time so long,
'Twill be like de horse in de ole man's song',
Sing away, etc.,
Dat he learned to lib widout corn or hay,
But he _went dead_ dat berry same day,
Right away, etc.
CHORUS.
O gemmen ob de "Supply Association,"[6]
I'll tell you ob de "New-born Nation,"
Far away, etc.,
De Confederate States of America,
Where cotton grows both night and day,
Far away, etc.
CHORUS.
For we can grow de cotton-wool,
For John Crapeau and Johnny Bull,
"Parley voo," etc.,
An' dey will feed and keep de workies,
"White weaver folk," and "hoe in darkies,"
Quite right, etc.
CHORUS.
O I'se gwine back to de land ob cotton,
Sea Island seed and sandy bottom,
Far away, etc.,
To de bressed land whar I was born,
De land of sugar, cotton and corn,
Far away, etc.
CHORUS.
THE SOLDIER'S MISSION.
By A. W. MORSE.
Haste thee, falter not, noble patriot band,
Bravely meet thy lot, firm maintain thy stand,
God, the God of War, who defends the just,
Give thine arm the power to defend thy trust.
Thy country called thine aid, prompt thine answer came:
"We'll draw our battle blade, and shield our country's name,
'Till our firm demand shall have been proclaimed,
Justice through the land--equal rights maintained."
Welcome, welcome, then, to thy happy home,
Warm hearts wait thee, when thou mayst thus return
But shouldst thou fall in defense of right
With grateful hearts we'll all cherish thy memory bright.
[Illustration: Infantry Button.]
SOLDIER, I STAY TO PRAY FOR THEE.[7]
Words by J. S. THOVINGTON.
Music by J. W. GROSCHEL.
_Vocal Duett._
SOLDIER.
Lady, I go to fight for thee,
Where gory banners wave,
To fight for thee, and, oh, perchance
To find a soldier's grave.
LADY.
Soldier, I stay to pray for thee,
A harder task is mine;
To which, and long in lonely grief,
That victory may be thine.
SOLDIER.
Lady, I go and fight for thee.
LADY.
Soldier, I stay and pray for thee.
BOTH.
And strength and faith combined,
Still form the magic sword,
Wherewith the Southrons victory find,
The Southrons victory find.
[Illustration: "Lady, I go to fight for thee!"]
SOLDIER.
Fare thee well!
LADY.
Fare thee well!
THE SOUTH OUR COUNTRY.
Words by E. M. THOMPSON.
Music by J. A. BUTTERFIELD.
Our country, our country, oh, where may we find,
Amid all the proud relics of legend or story,
A holier charm for the patriot mind
Than that soul-stirring topic--our native land's glory.
That land on whose standard the eagle's proud pinions
Flutter lordly defiance to tyranny's minions,
And whose soil all untarnished by sceptre or throne,
Is a home for the brave, and the free heart alone.
And we care not to honor the bleak shores of Maine,
With her ship-peopled strand in proud grandeur careering,
Nor the West, with her wide prairies waving in grain,
The gainers of plenty by name so endearing.
But the South is our home the land of bright flowers,
Where the softest of suns, and the gentlest of showers
Distill a sweet balm from the blossoming earth,
And make life a bright vision of pleasure and mirth.
Though dreams of the past cling around the heart still,
And a thousand proud memories will ever be cherished
Of Princeton and Monmouth and brave Bunker Hill
The spots where our country's defenders have perished;
The union they bled for is now rudely severed,
The idols are broken we once fondly revered,
And discord has scattered its pestilent bane
From Florida's reefs to the snow peaks of Maine.
But union still gladdens our own sunny home,
Whose bright blades and brave hearts will ever defend her,
And though wreck and disaster and ruin may come,
While the bright sun shines o'er them they never will surrender.
Let the foeman come on in his daring effrontery,
Let him trample the loved soil we call our dear country,
And for every fair flower that fades in his path,
A proud heart shall bleed 'neath the sword of our wrath.
I WISH I WAS IN DIXIE'S LAND.
By DAN D. EMMETT.
[The music of this song can be obtained of Oliver Ditson Co., Boston,
Mass.]
I wish I was in de land ob cotton,
Old times dar am not forgotten,
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land!
In Dixie land whar I was born in,
Early on one frosty mornin',
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land!
CHORUS.--Den I wish I was in Dixie--
Hooray, hooray!
In Dixie land I'll took my stan'!
To lib an' die in Dixie
Away, away,
Away down south in Dixie
Away, away,
Away down south in Dixie.
Ole Missus marry "Will-de-Weaber,"
William was gay deceber
Look away, etc.
But when he put his arm around 'er
He smiled as fierce as a forty-pounder
Look away, etc.
CHORUS.
His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaber,
But dat did not seem to grieb 'er,
Look away, etc.
Ole Missus acted de foolish part,
An' died for a man dat broke her heart,
Look away, etc.
CHORUS.
Now, here's a health to de next ole Missus,
Ah! all de gals dat want to kiss us,
Look away, etc.
But if you want to drive 'way sorrow,
Come an' hear dis song to-morrow,
Look away, etc.
CHORUS.
Dar's buckwheat cakes an' Injun batter,
Makes you fat, or a little fatter,
Look away, etc.
Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble,
To Dixie's Land I'm bound to trabble,
Look away, etc.
CHORUS.
CAMPAIGN BALLAD.
By REV. J. E. CARNES.
Young Florida sends forth her clan--the old Dominion's brave,
With sons of Texas, lead the van to glory or the grave;
Now, by the fame of Yorktown's name, and by the Alamo,
The sons will not the fathers shame, though mightier be the foe.
From desecrated Maryland come out a faithful few,
And old Kentucky sends a band to God and Freedom true;
There comes a thrill from Sharpsburg's rill--and from the "bloody
ground,"
Heap'd with the mounds of Perryville, the spectral slogans sound!
And Alabama's well-tried host into the Grey line wheels,
From wasted farms, beleaguered coast, from Florence to Mobile;
The torch-lit home, whence kindred roam, has lent its wings their fire;
And wrongs, tear-writ in mem'ry's tome, to deeds of blood inspire.
Ho, Louisiana! vengeance fraught by rapine's hellish scenes,
Comes vanward with the blended thought of Mansfield--New Orleans;
By spicy groves, where beauty roves, and where the Yankees swarm,
With vandal feet, in hireling droves, she swears her vengeance warm.
Arkansas strikes Missouri's hand--they cross the bayonet,
Each thinking of a glorious band with blood of kindred met;
They bless the Post, whose little host fought all but treason well;
And Elkhorn's grief and Springfield's boast their patriot bosoms swell.
From where the cypress droppeth down tear-dews on Jackson's tomb;
From where the darkest mountains frown, and brightest valleys bloom,
All broad of breast, with lance in rest, and in their swift-streams free,
Pour down the bravest and the best of sinewy Tennessee.
With Vicksburg boiling in their veins, the Mississippians cheer,
With wildest joy, the trumpet-strains that speak the battle near;
O hear! O hark! the name of Stark is passed along the line--
A thousand eyes more keenly mark where gathering foes combine.
From Chickamauga to the flames that o'er Savannah glare,
Inspired by Bee and Barton's names the Georgians, too are there;
By the sad path of Sherman's wrath all thro' their staid old state,
They swear themselves to deeds of scath, and righteous love of hate!
The Carolinas seek the fray--the scarr'd of every fight,
From far Manassas' glorious day to Fisher's bloody night;
Grand deeds of old their hearts unfold, and later memories clasp,
While rifle stock and hilt of gold are griped with fiercer grasp.
Now make one more immortal plain, ye men of battle skill,
Ye of the comprehensive brain and the undaunted will;
Now, Robert Lee! there comes to thee the all-decisive hour!
God make thy flashing blade to be the lightning of his power!
Now, Beauregard and Johnston, now as in your other fight,
With mutual heart and answering brow inspire the hosts of right!
Now, Bragg and Hood, who oft withstood, and oft have charged the foe,
Come with a hand and will as good to lay the vandal low.
Rise, Longstreet, with a face that shines as bright as battle's flash,
Where'er along the closing lines the burnish'd bayonets crash;
Now, Forrest, aid with such a blade as made Fort Pillow quail;
Now, Hill and Hardee, undismay'd, direct the iron hail.
Ho! Smith, Magruder, Taylor, Price and Walker in your spheres,
Warm with your zeal the hearts of ice, and charm the coward's fears!
For by the tree of Liberty God planted on this shore,
This fight should be a victory or ye should breathe no more.
Now, Davis! on the mount of State, discern the Lord's command,
While faith and courage on thee wait, and lift each cheering hand,
To beckon all, from farm and street, and make the laggard feel
A wish to meet the first that greets the carnival of steel!
Let Honor beat the rataplan and Duty quick obey--
Make "yea" an instant Tagerman, and "no" at once a Ney!
Upon the blood our best have spilled, pledge me with common breaths
War to the hilt with Yankee guilty, for "Liberty or Death!"
[Illustration: Louisiana.]
OUR GLORIOUS FLAG.
A VICKSBURG SONG.
_Air--"Her Bright Smile Haunts Me Still."_
There is freedom on each fold, and each star is freedom's throne,
And the free, the brave, the bold, guard thine honor as their own;
Ev'ry danger hast thou known that the battle's storm can fill,
Thy glory hath not flown--we proudly wave thee still.
Ev'ry danger, etc.
Floating in the morning light, Freedom's sun! thou shinest far,
Floating thro' the murky night, all shall see thee, Freedom's star!
For _sic semper_ thy refrain, and thy motto e'er shall be,
Let tyrants wear the chain--I am--I will be free!
O'er the land or the sea where the hurling waves are torn,
In the calm, the storm, the breeze, be thy standard proudly borne;
For there's freedom on each fold, and each star's freedom's throne--
The free, the brave, the bold, thy glory is their own.
THE HOUR BEFORE EXECUTION.
By MISS MARIA E. JONES.
Hark! the clock strikes! All, all that now remains,
Is one short hour of this fast fleeting life,
And then farewell the terrors and the strife,
The heavenly joys, the sorrows of long years,
It's holy rapture, the corroding pains--
That fill the heart with rapture or with tears.
Farewell, old world! I never knew 'till now
How well I lov'd thee; and my wayward heart
Still fondly clings to thee--but we must part!
Let not my proud heart in that parting fail!
How can I weep to leave thee? I whose brow
Hath oft been bared to battle's iron hail!
My heart beats proudly, yet the coward tears
Steal from my eyes and bathe my pallid cheek;
God! what womanly weakness do they speak
And would half say, that the brave Southern spy
Who had scorned death and mock'd his idle fears,
Had, at last, forgotten how to die.
O beauteous earth! each well remember'd place--
All that I lov'd comes up before my mind--
The lov'd and cherished I must leave behind--
Stand out before me! every verdant spot
In my life's desert I can clearly trace,
E'en to those pictures I had deemed forgot.
I see my mother standing in the door
Of my lov'd home, as in the evening breeze
The curtains wave, and the gigantic trees,
Stretching their arms to welcome me again,
Cast dark'ning shadows on the bare bright floor--
Mother, dear mother! you will watch in vain.
[Illustration: "Farewell to earth and all its beauteous bloom."]
Watch for the coming of my eager feet,
My warm embraces and tender, loving kisses--
They will not come! dear mother, you will miss
Your boy's lov'd presence, and in vain will seek,
The well known form that you were wont to greet
With tender kisses upon brow and cheek.
The tall, green trees will cast their lengthen'd shade
Across the prairie, and the shadows pale
Will fill your home, and the wild winds will wail
With frantic madness, as they swiftly sweep
Thro' the dark forests where your children play'd--
Where all save one in death's embraces sleep.
And he will fill an unhonor'd far-off grave,
Unmark'd and lone! The hated foeman's scorn,
Will soon be o'er. This glorious, golden morn
I leave my life, my honor and my fame,
To nobly die as fits a soldier brave--
Who asks of Southrons but an honor'd name?
The hour is gone! and I must meet my doom,
And die, as should a soldier always die,
With unblanch'd cheek, and proudly scornful eye,
While stern defiance doth my bosom swell--
Farewell to earth and all its beauteous bloom--
My country! mother! one long, last farewell!
THE BLACK FLAG.
By PAUL H. HAYNE.
Like the roar of the wintry surges on a wild tempestuous strand,
The voice of the madden'd millions comes up from an outraged land;
For the cup of our woe runs over, and the day of our grace is past,
And Mercy has fled to the Angels, and Hatred is King at last!
CHORUS.--Then up with the Sable Banner!
Let it thrill to the War God's breath,
For we march to the watchword--Vengeance!
And we follow the Captain--Death!
In the gloom of the gory breaches, on the ramparts wrapt in flame,
'Mid the ruin'd homesteads, blacken'd by a hundred deeds of shame;
Wheresoever the vandals rally, and the bands of the alien meet,
We will crush the heads of the hydra with the stamp of our armed feet.
They have taught us a fearful lesson! 'tis burn'd on our hearts in fire,
And the souls of a host of heroes leap with a fierce desire;
And we swear by all that is sacred, and we swear by all that is pure,
That the crafty and cruel dastards shall ravage our homes no more.
We will roll the billows of battle back, back on the braggart foe,
'Till his leaguer'd and stricken cities shall quake with a coward's
throe;
They shall compass the awful meaning of the conflict their lust begun,
When the Northland rings with wailing, and the grand old cause hath
won.[8]
BANKS' SKEDADDLE.
You know the Federal General Banks,
Who came through Louisiana with his forty thousand Yanks;
His object was to execute the Abolition law,
With as mongrel a horde of soldiers as creation ever saw;
There were Irish and English, and Spanish and Dutch,
And negroes and Yankees, and many more such,
All dress'd out in blue coats and fine filagree--
But such a skedaddle you never did see!
CHORUS.--Doodle, doodle, Yankee doodle, doodle, dee,
O such a skedaddle you never did see!
They came prepared to shear our sheep and gather in our crops,
And thus destroy the government by knocking down its props;
They'd rob us of our wheat and wool, our poultry and such things,
And steal the ladies' jewelry, their dresses and their rings;
They had scythe-blades and whiskey, and sheep shears and hams,
And threshes and jack-knives, and jellies and jams,
O glorious their object--a nation to free!
But such a skedaddle you never did see!
The veterans of Vicksburg, who never had been whipped,
All swore that not a leaflet of their laurels should be clipped;
They wanted to see Texas, and the famous Texas boys,
Who thro' the whole Confederacy were making such a noise;
They had banners and mottoes, and trumpets and drums,
And small arms and cannon, and round shot and bombs,
Their most famous column, the "Feds" did agree--
But such a skedaddle you never did see!
How first they saw the Texans and heard the Texan yell--
But whether men or devils they declare they could not tell,
They faced about, at "double quick," and run with all their might,
For they had seen the "elephant," and did not like the sight;
They left baggage and Enfields, and knapsacks and shoes,
And pickles and blankets, and negroes and stews,
And broke for the river as fast as might be--
But such a skedaddle you never did see!
Helter, skelter, neck or nothing, driven by their fears,
From ev'ry side the Texan yell was ringing in their ears!
Still on they rush'd, like quarter-horses, shouting as they ran,
"The Rebels take the hindmost--now save himself who can!"
They had gunboats and transports, and all sorts of crafts,
They were all clad in iron, with guns fore and aft,
In these they expected in safety to flee--
But such a skedaddle you never did see!
AWAKE! TO ARMS IN TEXAS!
_Air--"Dixie."_
Hear ye not the sound of battle,
Sabre clash and musket rattle?
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
Hostile footsteps on your border;
Hostile columns tread in order;
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
CHORUS.--O, fly to arms in Texas! to arms! to arms!
From Texas land we'll rout the band
That comes to conquer Texas--
Awake, awake, and rout the foe from Texas.
See the red smoke hanging o'er us;
Hear the cannon's booming chorus;
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
See our steady columns forming;
Hear the shouting--hear the storming,
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
CHORUS.
All the Northmen's forces coming;
Hark! the distant rapid drumming:
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
Prouder ranks than theirs were driven,
When our Mexic ties were riven;
Awake, awake, awake in Texas.
CHORUS.
Gird your loins, with sword and sabre;
Give your lives to freedom's labor;
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
What though ev'ry heart be sadden'd--
What though all the land be redden'd--
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
CHORUS.
Shall this boasting, mad invader,
Trample Texas and degrade her?
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
By our fathers' proud example,
Texas soil they shall not trample;
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
CHORUS.
Texans! meet them on the border;
Charge them into wild disorder;
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
Hew the vandals down before you,
Till the last inch they restore you;
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
CHORUS.
Through the echoing hills resounding,
Hear the Texan bugles sounding;
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
Arouse from ev'ry hill and valley;
List the bugle! Rally! rally!
Awake, awake, awake in Texas!
CHORUS.
THE CAPTURE OF SEVENTEEN OF COMPANY H, FOURTH TEXAS CAVALRY.
_Air--"Wake Snakes and Bite a Biskit."_
'Twas early in the morning of eighteen sixty-three,
We started out on picket, not knowing what we'd see;
The bridge we knew was floating. If the Yankees should pursue,
We knew we should be captured if running we'd not do.
To stop and give them battle, we never tho't of it--
The shot at us did rattle, so we tho't we'd better "git,"
The captain tried to rally us, and so did brave young Linn;
And Rader, too, with pistol drawn--Fenly next "put in."
Rainbolt, too, with angry words attempts to stop our flight,
They tell us yet to stop with them, and give the Yankees fight:
They saw they could not stop us--to try it would be vain--
So their only chance of safety was to give their steeds the rein.
Now this portion of my story will cause your hearts to bleed,
It tells of those who halted while going at full speed.
First came Billy Eddins, with musket shot in thigh,
He was told by the Yankees, "surrender now or die!"
Then came poor Johnny Burns, with sabre cut in head,
And near by him, and wounded, stood the still unconquer'd Red;
Then Oscar, and June Harris stood near in sore affright--
Then came the young De Marcus, in none the better plight.
Yarborough, too, with chalky cheek, was walking down the road--
The Yankees had to some extent relieved him of his load;
His overcoat he had pulled off, and in his shirt he stood,
In woeful plight, he was a sight,--his face contain'd no blood.
Then came the lively Lilly, with teeth hard set in wrath,
To think that some had pass'd him by, but pick'd him up at last!
Then Burnes came, and Maynard, then Graham and Jim Baugh--
The gallant Bone was found alone, and bro't back from afar.
But of the handsome Parton I must not fail to tell;
His graceful way of riding you all remember well;
But to-day the fates concluded to stop his wild career,
So from his horse was jolted by a musket from the rear.
The gallant Hill, and dashing Dees, were spurring for dear life,
When a Yankee rode with perfect ease upon them with a knife;
"Surrender, now, my pretty pair; and do it quickly too,
Stop at once and turn your mare, or I will run you through."
They stopp'd at once, and faced about and to the rear did start;
And back they came, with legs quite lame, with faint and sinking heart:
And there they saw a crowd who were gobbled up that day--
They were the twain that made seventeen, and we were marched away.
ALABAMA.
Words by LAURA LORRIMER.
Music by J. W. GROSCHEL.
Over vale and over mountain
Pealing forth in triumph strong,
Comes a lofty swell of music,
Alabama's greeting song.
In the new-born arch of glory,
So, she burns, the central star,
Never shame shall blight its grandeur,
Never cloud its radiance mar.
CHORUS.--Alabama, Alabama,
Listen, Southrons, to the strain,
Alabama, Alabama,
Shout the rallying cry again.
As the gulf waves rushing shoreward,
Break in music echoes grand,
Alabama sends this greeting,
Proudly to her sister band.
This her ultimatum, burning,
In each heart of Southern flame,
Peace, if gained not by dishonor,
But far better war than shame.
CHORUS.
Let the "Northern Lion" couchant,
On his bleak and froze plain,
Lift his shaggy front in wonder,
And defiant shake his mane.
Sunward soars the mighty eagle,
And where blossom brighter bowers,
Than amid the green savannahs
Of this sunny land of ours.
CHORUS.
And her sons will rise in legions,
Bleed and die at her behest,
Ere a hostile Northern footstep
Trample, conqueror, on her breast.
This the faith she plights her sisters,
In this glorious Southern band,
Side by side she will be with them,
Heart with heart, and hand to hand.
CHORUS.
IMOGEN.
By MAJ.-GEN. J. B. MAGRUDER.
Wake! dearest, wake! 'tis thy lover who calls, Imogen;
List! dearest, list! the dew gently falls, Imogen;
Arise to thy lattice, the moon is asleep,
The bright stars above us their bright vigils keep.
[Illustration: "Thy steed is impatient his mistress to bear."]
CHORUS.--Then fear not, my Imogen,
Thou'rt dearer than life!
The heart of the soldier is the home of the wife, Imogen,
The heart of the soldier is the home of the wife.
[Illustration: "Arise to thy lattice, the moon is asleep."]
Thy steed is impatient his mistress to bear, Imogen,
Home to her lover, on the prairie afar, Imogen,
Belov'd as a maiden, adored as a wife,
Thou shalt be forever the star of my life.
AN OLD TEXAN'S APPEAL.
By REUBEN E. BROWN.
Come all ye temper'd hearts of steel--come, quit your flocks and farms,
Your sports, your plays, your holidays, and hark! away to arms!
And hark! away to arms!
Your sports, your plays, your holidays,
And hark! away to arms!
For a soldier is a gentleman--his honor is his life--
And he that won't fight at his post shall ne'er stay with his wife!
Shall ne'er stay with his wife!
And he that won't fight at his post,
Shall ne'er stay with his wife!
For love and honor are the same, they are so near alike,
They neither can exist alone, but flourish side by side.
Our country calls us to the field--let's not a moment stay;
Gird on your arms with cheerfulness, and fearless march away.
No foreign power shall us enslave--no Northern tyrant reign;
'Twas independence made us free, and freedom we'll maintain.
The rising world shall sing of us a thousand years to come,
And children to their children tell what glories we have won.
Farewell, sweethearts! 'tis for awhile; my dear, sweet girls, adieu;
Let's drive these Northern dogs away, we'll come and stay with you.
And when the war is over, boys, we'll then sit down at ease--
We'll plow and sow, and reap and mow, and do just as we please.
ARISE! YE SONS OF FREE-BORN SIRES!
(Lines prompted by the spirit that pervaded the soldiers of Galveston on
receiving the news of our disaster.)
By A. E. MORRIS, Company C, Twentieth Infantry.