Before they had to go;
But, bless their hearts, we weren't aware
That we should miss them so.
We miss them all in many ways,
But truth will ever out,
The greatest thing we miss them for
Is seeing us about.
On Sunday, when we go to church,
We look in vain for some
To meet us, smiling, on the porch,
And ask to see us home.
And then we can't enjoy a walk
Since all the beaux have gone;
For what's the good (to use plain talk),
If we must trudge alone?
But what's the use of talking thus?
We'll try to be content;
And if they cannot come to us
A message may be sent.
And that's one comfort, anyway;
For though we are apart,
There is no reason why we may
Not open heart to heart.
We trust it may soon come
To a final test;
We want to see our Southern homes
Secured in peaceful rest.
But if the blood of those we love
In freedom's cause must flow,
With fervent trust in God above,
We bid them onward go.
And we will watch them as they go,
And cheer them on their way:
Our arms shall be their resting-place
When wounded sore they lay.
Oh! if the sons of Southern soil
For freedom's cause must die,
Her daughters ask no dearer boon
Than by their side to lie.
JACKSON'S RESIGNATION.
A Yankee Soliloquy before the Battle of Fredericksburg.
By TENELLA.
Well, we can whip them now I guess,
If Jackson has resigned,
General Lee in "fighting Burnside,"
More than his match will find:
We're done with slow McClellan,
Who kept us "digging dirt,"
And now are "on to Richmond,"
Where some one "will be hurt."
Again around the Rebels
The anaconda coils,
For East and West, and North and South,
We have them in our toils;
We'd have beat them at Manassas
If McDowell had not slipped,
When he tried to leap this Stonewall,
Who don't know when he's whipped.
We'd have laid them in the Valley
So low they could not rise,
But Banks must run against it,
And spill all his supplies.
Now if that fool Jeff Davis
Has let Stonewall resign,
We can go "on to Richmond"
By the Rappahannock line.
But they say he's a shrewd fellow
Who knows a soldier well,
And stood by Sidney Johnston
Until in death he fell;
"If Johnston is no general,
Then, gentlemen, I've none,"
He said to those who grumbled,
When Donelson we won.
And I don't believe that Jackson's
Resignation he'll accept--
Hallo!!!--A rebel picket--
How close the rascal crept!
"Say, stranger, is it true
That Jackson has resigned?"
"Well, yes--I reckon so--
Heard somethin' of the kind."
"What for? Did old Jeff Davis
Put a sub. above his head?"
"No--they took away his commissary,
So I've heard it said."
"Well, _we_ are glad to hear it,
And will tender them our thanks,
But who was Jackson's commissary?"
"_Your Major-General Banks._"
"Confound your rebel impudence!
He'd be very smart indeed,
If from supplies for _one_ intended,
_Two_ armies he could feed."
_Southern Illustrated News_, April, 1863.
WE LEFT HIM ON THE FIELD.
By MISS MARIA E. JONES, of Galveston, Tex.
We left him on the crimson'd field,
Where battle storms had swept,
We know the soldier's fate was seal'd--
No wonder that we wept.
Some have, perhaps, as nobly fought,
And some as bravely fell,
Where the red sword its work hath wrought,
But none we lov'd so well.
O deem us not a faithless band,
Who left him to the foe;
His latest accent of command,
Was when he bade us go!
Yet one still linger'd near his side,
To watch his fleeting breath,
To mark the ebbing of life's tide
And pale approach of death.
But ere we left our Captain there,
He gave us each a word,
Some thought of kind, remembering care--
"Here, Warren, take my sword--
You'll be their captain now, you know;
But, friend, remember then,"
Said he, "how well I loved them;
Be faithful to my men!
[Illustration: "He faintly smiled and waved his hand."]
"Wear the sword well. The gift is small,
But with it goes my love,
Good-bye, boys! Heaven bless you all;
I'm ordered up above,
And there can be no countermand--
I know my fate is seal'd!"
He faintly smiled, and wav'd his hand--
We left him on the field.
MOTHER! IS THE BATTLE OVER?
Mother! is the battle over? thousands have been killed they say--
Is my father coming?--tell me, have the Southrons gain'd the day?
Is he well, or is he wounded? Mother, do you think he's slain?
If you know, I pray you tell me--will my father come again?
Mother, dear, you're always sighing since you last the paper read--
Tell me why you now are crying--why that cap is on your head?
Ah! I see you cannot tell me--father's one among the slain!
Altho' he lov'd us very dearly, he will never come again!
A NORTH CAROLINA CALL TO ARMS.
By LUOLA.
_Air--"The Old North State."_
Ye sons of Carolina! awake from your dreaming!
The minions of Lincoln upon us are streaming!
Oh! wait not for argument, call, or persuasion
To meet at the onset this treach'rous invasion!
CHORUS.--Defend, defend the old North State forever;
Defend, defend the good old North State.
Oh! think of the maidens, the wives, and the mothers;
Fly ye to the rescue, sons, husbands, and brothers,
And sink in oblivion all party and section;
Your hearth-stones are looking to you for protection!
CHORUS.
The babe in its sweetness, the child in its beauty,
Unconsciously urge you to action and duty!
By all that is sacred, by all to you tender,
Your country adjures, arise and defend her!
CHORUS.
The Star-Spangled Banner, dishonored, is streaming
O'er lands of fanatics; their swords are now gleaming;
They thirst for the life-blood of those you most cherish;
With brave hearts and true, then, arouse, or they perish.
CHORUS.
Round the flag of the South, oh! in thousands now rally,
For the hour's departed when freemen may sally;
Your all is at stake; then go forth and God speed you,
And onward to glory and victory lead you!
CHORUS.--Hurrah! hurrah! the old North State forever!
Hurrah! hurrah! the good old North State.
DIXIE.
By ALBERT PIKE.
Southrons, hear your country call you!
Up! lest worse than death befall you!
To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!
Lo! all the beacon-fires are lighted,
Let all hearts be now united!
To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!
Advance the flag of Dixie!
Hurrah! hurrah!
CHORUS.--For Dixie's land we'll take our stand,
To live or die for Dixie!
To arms! to arms!
And conquer peace for Dixie!
To arms! to arms!
And conquer peace for Dixie!
Hear the Northern thunders mutter!
Northern flags in South winds flutter!
Send them back your fierce defiance,
Stamp upon the accurs'd alliance!
Fear no danger! shun no labor!
Lift up rifle, pike and sabre!
Shoulder pressing close to shoulder,
Let the odds make each heart bolder!
How the South's great heart rejoices
At your cannon's ringing voices;
For faith betrayed and pledges broken,
Wrong inflicted, insults spoken.
Strong as lions, swift as eagles,
Back to their kennels hunt these beagles!
Cut the unequal bonds asunder!
Let them hence each other plunder.
Swear upon your country's altar,
Never to submit or falter,
'Till the spoilers are defeated,
'Till the Lord's work is completed.
Halt not till our federation,
Secures among earth's powers its station!
Then at peace, and crowned with glory,
Hear your children tell the story.
If the loved ones weep in sadness,
Victory soon shall bring them gladness;
Exultant pride soon banish sorrow,
Smiles chase tears away to-morrow.
BATTLE SONG.
Have you counted up the cost?
What is gained and what is lost--
When the foe your lines have crossed?
Gained--the infamy of fame?
Gained--a dastard's spotted name;
Gained--eternity of shame.
Lost--desert of manly Worth;
Lost--the right you had by birth;
Lost--lost! Freedom from the earth!
Freemen, up! the foe is nearing!
Haughty banners high uprearing--
Lo! their serried ranks appearing!
Freemen, on! the drums are beating!
Will you shrink from such a meeting?
Forward! give them hero greeting!
From your hearts, and homes, and altars,
Backward hurl your proud assaulters--
He is not a man that falters!
OVER THE RIVER.
By VIRGINIA NORFOLK.
"Let us cross the river, and rest under the shade of the trees."--_Last
words of Stonewall Jackson._
Bravely ye've fought, my gallant, gallant men!
Bravely ye've fought and well!
Yon blood-stained field, where your banner floats,
Tells how your foemen fell!
Ye are recreant none to your knightly vows,
And none to your high behest;
But the noon sun shines on your burning brows--
So, over the river and rest!
CHORUS.--Over the river the shade trees grow--
Over the river we'll rest!
Ye have fought the fight--won the praise that brings
Peace to the soldier's breast!
Bravely ye've conquered, my gallant Southern men!
Ye have won your rights anew!
Ye have washed out the stain of traitor blood,
With the baptism of the true!
Your clanging armor and flashing steel
Have told of a deadly fray;
But foemen are flying right and left!
Ye have had a glorious day!
CHORUS.
Foemen are flying! aye, madly they've fled,
And Peace waves her snow-white wing!
But we mourn the loss of our gallant dead,
While the hills with victory ring!
One warrior wears his laurel crown,--
One sleeps on his plumed crest!
While the palm tree waves by the river side,
There, soldiers, will we rest!
CHORUS.
THE MAN OF THE TWELFTH OF MAY.[11]
By ROBERT FALLIGANT, Savannah, Ga.
When history tells her story,
Of the noble hero band,
Who have made the green fields gory,
For the life of their native land,
How grand will be the picture,
Of Georgia's proud array,
As they drove the boasting foeman back,
On that glorious twelfth of May, boys,
That glorious twelfth of May.
CHORUS.--Then hurrah! while we rally around
The hero of that day!
And a nation's grateful praises crown,
The man of the twelfth of May, boys,
The man of the twelfth of May.
Whose mien is ever proudest,
When we hold the foe at bay?
Whose war-cry cheers us loudest,
As we rush to the bloody fray?
'Tis Gordon's! Our reliance!
Fearless as on the day,
When he hurled his grand defiance,
In that charge of the twelfth of May, boys,
In that charge of the twelfth of May!
CHORUS.
Who can be a coward!
What freeman fears to die,
When Gordon orders, "Forward!"
And the red cross floats on high?
Follow his tones inspiring!
On! on to the field away!
And we'll see the foe retiring,
As they did on the twelfth of May, boys,
As they did on the twelfth of May!
CHORUS.
This is no time for sighing!
Whate'er our fate may be,
'Tis sweet to think that, dying,
We will leave our country free!
When the storms of battle pelt her,
She'll defy the tyrants' sway,
And our breasts shall be her shelter,
As they were on the twelfth of May, boys,
As they were on the twelfth of May!
CHORUS.
MORGAN'S WAR SONG.
Cheer, boys, cheer! we'll march away to battle!
Cheer, boys, cheer! for our sweethearts and our wives!
Cheer, boys, cheer! we'll nobly do our duty,
And give to the South our hearts, our arms, our lives.
Bring forth the flag--our country's noble standard;
Wave it on high 'till the wind shakes each fold out:
Proudly it floats, nobly waving in the vanguard;
Then cheer, boys, cheer! with a lusty, long, bold shout,
Cheer, boys, cheer! etc.
But as we march, with heads all lowly bending,
Let us implore a blessing from on high;
Our cause is just--the right from wrong defending;
And the God of battle will listen to our cry.
Cheer, boys, cheer! etc.
Tho' to our homes we never may return,
Ne'er press again our lov'd ones in our arms,
O'er our lone graves their faithful hearts will mourn,
Then cheer up, boys, cheer! such death hath no alarms.
Cheer, boys, cheer! etc.
THE SONG OF THE EXILE.
_Air--"Dixie."_
Oh! here I am in the land of cotton,
The flag once honor'd is now forgotten;
Fight away, fight away, fight away for Dixie's land.
But here I stand for Dixie dear,
To fight for freedom, without fear;
Fight away, fight away, fight away for Dixie's land.
CHORUS.--For Dixie's land I'll take my stand,
To live or die for Dixie's land,
Fight away, fight away, fight away for Dixie's land.
Abe Lincoln tore through Baltimore,
In a baggage car with fastened door;
Fight away, etc.
And left his wife, alas! alack!
To perish on the railroad track!
Fight away, etc.
CHORUS.
We have no ships, we have no navies,
But mighty faith in the great Jeff Davis;
Fight away, etc.
Brave old Missouri shall be ours,
Despite Abe Lincoln's Northern powers,
Fight away, etc.
CHORUS.
Abe's proclamation in a twinkle,
Stirred up the blood of Rip Van Winkle;
Fight away, etc.
Jeff Davis's answer was short and curt:
"Fort Sumpter's taken, and nobody's hurt!"
Fight away, etc.
CHORUS.
We hear the words of this same ditty,
To the right and left of the Mississippi;
Fight away, etc.
In the land of flowers, hot and sandy,
From Delaware Bay to Rio Grande!
Fight away, etc.
CHORUS.
The ladies cheer with heart and hand,
The men who fight for Dixie land;
Fight away, etc.
The "Stars and Bars" are waving o'er us,
And Independence is before us;
Fight away, etc.
CHORUS.
MARTINSBURG, VA.
[Illustration: Cavalry Button.]
NATIONAL HYMN.
Words by CAPT. E. GRISWOLD.
Music by J. W. GROSCHEL.
Now let the thrilling anthem rise,
O'er all the glorious land,
Where tow'ring hills usurp the skies,
And valleys broad expand.
Where each majestic river rolls,
Where wave the fields of grain,
Let Southern hearts and Southern souls
Repeat the exulting strain.
CHORUS.--The cross and bars, its gleaming stars,
Shall float o'er land and main;
The cross and bars, its gleaming stars,
Shall float o'er land and main;
Confederate Sov'reign State we stand,
God save our land, God save our land;
Confederate Sov'reign State we stand,
God save our land, God save our land,
God save our land, God save our land.
Where golden fruited orange blossoms,
Green lemon grove and bower,
And where the tall magnolia looms,
With proud imperial flower,
Where bursting from their ripened bolls,
The cotton spreads the plain.
Let Southern hearts and Southern souls
Repeat the exulting strain.
CHORUS.
Where happy vassals chant their song,
In fields and homes and boats,
Where mocking birds the chords prolong,
Swelling their mottled throats,
Where law's broad aegis still upholds
Enlightened freedom's claim.
CHORUS.
Where in the Southern zenith glows
The warmth the sun imparts,
Afar from frigid Northern snows,
And bustling Northern Marts,
Where generous impulse still controls,
And scorns polluting stain,
Let Southern hearts and Southern souls,
Repeat th' exulting strain.
CHORUS.
And still from age to age repeat
The tale of battles won,
When bigot Northmen found defeat
Before each Southern son.
Proudly recount the muster rolls
Of living braves and slain,
Let Southern hearts and Southern souls
Repeat th' exulting strain.
CHORUS.
Where Chesapeake's broad waters glow
Round Maryland's green lands,
To where the gulf and ocean bow
By Florida's white sands;
From where the mad Atlantic rolls
To Rio Grande's plain,
Let Southern hearts and Southern souls
Repeat th' exulting strain.
CHORUS.
OVER THE RIVER.
(_MISSISSIPPI_).
By MISS MARIA E. JONES.
Over the river there are fierce, stern meetings,
No kindly clasp of hand, no welcome call;
But hatred swells the chorus of the greetings,
Of foes who meet at Death's high carnival;
No flash of wine-cups, but the red blood streaming
From ragged wounds, upon the thirsty sand,
And fierce, wild music of bright sabre gleaming,
Where eager foemen grapple hand to hand.
Over the river are our lov'd ones lying,
Alone and wounded on the couch of pain;
Consum'd by wasting fevers--even dying--
Sighing for those they ne'er may see again;
There are untended graves where grass is growing
Rankly and tall o'er each lone sleeper's head;
There are long trenches, where bright flowers blowing,
Mark the common grave of thousands dead.
Over the river victory shouts of gladness,
Great waves of joy rise above seas of woe;
Over the river comes a wail of sadness,
A city's fallen, or a chief laid low;
Alas! for us! we must sit still and ponder
Upon the woes of battle all the day,
And dream, and sew, and weep, while our thoughts wander
Over the river! Let us watch and pray.
PRIVATE MAGUIRE.
"Och, it's nate to be captain or colonel,
Divil a bit would I want to be higher;
But to rust as a private, I think's an infernal
Predicament, surely," says Private Maguire.
"They can go sparkin' and playin' at billiards,
With money to spend for their slightest desire,
Loafin' and atin' and drinkin' at Ballard's,
While we're on the pickets," says Private Maguire.
"Livin' in clover, they think it's a trifle
To stand out all night in the rain and the mire,
And a Yankee hard by, with a villainous rifle,
Just riddy to pop ye," says Private Maguire.
"Faith, now, it's not that I'm afther complainin',
I'm spilin' to meet ye, Abe Lincoln, Esquire!
Ye blaggard! it's only I'm weary of thrainin',
And thrainin', and thrainin'," says Private Maguire.
"O Lord, for a row! but Maguire, boy, be aisy,
Kape yourself swate for the inimy's fire;
General Lee is the chap that shortly will plaze ye,
Be the Holy St. Patrick!" says Private Maguire.
"And, lad, if ye're hit (O, bedad, that infernal
Jimmy O'Dowd would make love to Maria!)
Whether ye're captain, or major, or colonel,
Ye'll die with the best then," says Private Maguire.
STONEWALL JACKSON.
By a lady formerly of Richmond.
_Tune_--"_The Coronack._"
Unmoved in the battle,
Whilst friends and foes swerved,
Midst roaring and rattle,
His heroes were nerved.
On Manassas' red plain,
Their unyielding front,
Gave their chieftain that name,
So strong in war's brunt.
He swoops from the mountain,
Like our own regal bird;
O'er Potomac's blue fountain,
His war scream is heard.
Though his foeman be brave,
They shrink from his sword,
Who its mighty power gave,
Is the triumphant Lord!
Again from the mountain,
Through forest and valley,
Once more near that fountain,
His invincibles rally.
Like our own mountain eagle,
He swoops on the foemen,
And the cohorts of Lincoln
Fly and cower before him!
* * * *
SOUTHERN SONG.
_Tune_--"_Wait for the Wagon._"
Come, all ye sons of freedom,
And join our Southern band,
We are going to fight the Yankees,
And drive them from our land.
Justice is our motto,
And Providence our guide;
So jump into the wagon,
And we'll all take a ride.
CHORUS.--So wait for the wagon! the dissolution wagon;
The South is the wagon, and we'll all take a ride.
Secession is our watchword;
Our rights we all demand;
To defend our homes and firesides
We pledge our hearts and hands.
Jeff Davis is our President,
With Stephens by his side;
Great Beauregard, our General,
He joins us in our ride.
CHORUS.
Our wagon is the very best;
The running gear is good;
Stuffed round the sides with cotton,
And made of Southern wood.
Carolina is the driver,
With Georgia by her side,
Virginia holds the flag up
While we all take a ride.
CHORUS.
Old Lincoln and his Congressmen,
With Seward by his side,
Put old Scott in the wagon,
Just for to take a ride.
McDowell was the driver,
To cross Bull Run he tried,
But there he left the wagon
For Beauregard to ride.
CHORUS.
The invading tribe, called Yankees,
With Lincoln for their guide,
Tried to keep good old Kentucky,
From joining in the ride;
But she heeded not their entreaties,--
She has come into the ring;
She wouldn't fight for a government,
Where cotton wasn't king.
CHORUS.
Manassas was the battle-ground;
The field was fair and wide;
The Yankees thought they'd wipe us out,
And on to Richmond ride.
But when they met our "Dixie" boys,
Their danger they espied,
They wheeled about for Washington
And didn't wait to ride.
CHORUS.
Brave Beauregard, God bless him!
Led legions in his stead,
While Johnson seized the colors,
And waved them o'er his head.
So rising generations,
With pleasure we will tell,
How bravely our Fisher,
And gallant Johnson fell.
CHORUS.
_Raleigh Register._
THE BAND IN THE PINES.
By JOHN ESTEN COOKE.
O band in the pine wood, cease!
Cease with your splendid call!
The living are brave and noble,
But the dead were bravest of all!
They throng in the martial summons,
The loud, triumphant strain;
And the dear, bright eyes of long-dead friends,
Come to the heart again.
They come with the ringing bugle
And the deep drum's mellow roar--
And the soul is faint with longing
For the hands we clasp no more!
O band in the pine wood, cease!
Or the heart will melt in tears,
For the gallant eyes and the smiling lips,
And the voices of old years!
_Southern Illustrated News._
[Illustration:
"Though fifteen summers scarce have shed
Their blossoms on thy brow."]
MY WARRIOR BOY.
_Metropolitan Record._
Music by A. E. A. MUSE.
[The music of this song can be procured of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston,
Mass., owners of the copyright.]
Thou hast gone forth, my darling one,
To battle with the brave,
To strike in Freedom's sacred cause,
Or win an early grave;
With vet'rans grim, and stalwart men,
Thy pathway lieth now,
Though fifteen summers scarce have shed
Their blossoms on thy brow.
My babe in years, my warrior boy!
O! if a mother's tears
Could call thee back to be my joy,
And still these anxious fears,
I'd dash the traitor drops away,
That would unnerve thy hand,
Now raised to strike in Freedom's cause,
For thy dear native land.
[Illustration:
"Come back to me my darling son,
And light my life again."]
God speed thee on thy course, my boy,
Where'er thy pathway lie,
And guard thee when the leaden hail,
Shall thick around thee fly;
But when our sacred cause is won,
And peace again shall reign,
Come back to me, my darling son,
And light my life again.
THE REBEL BAND.
Old Eve she did the apple eat,
Old Eve she did the apple eat,
Old Eve she did the apple eat,
And smacked her lips and called it sweet.
CHORUS.--Do you belong to the rebel band,
Fighting for your home.
There was a time, the poets say,
There was a time, the poets say,
There was a time, the poets say,
When this world was washed away.
CHORUS.
How old Noah built him an ark,
How old Noah built him an ark,
How old Noah built him an ark,
Of gopher wood and hickory bark.
CHORUS.
The ark rested on Mount Ararat,
The ark rested on Mount Ararat,
The ark rested on Mount Ararat,
A mile and a half from Manassas' Gap.
CHORUS.
The animals came in two by two,
The animals came in two by two,
The animals came in two by two,
The camamile and the kangaroo.
CHORUS.
Now old Noah got very drunk,
Now old Noah got very drunk,
Now old Noah got very drunk,
And old Ham pulled him out of his bunk.
CHORUS.
Old Noah got mad as he could be,
Old Noah got mad as he could be,
Old Noah got mad as he could be,
And sent old Ham to Afrikee.
CHORUS.
THE SOUTHERN SOLDIER BOY.
Words by FATHER RYAN.
Music by W. LUDDEN.
Young as the youngest who donned the gray,
True as the truest who wore it,
Brave as the bravest he marched away,
(Hot tears on the cheeks of his mother lay);
Triumphant waved our flag one day,
He fell in the front before it.
CHORUS.--A grave in the wood with the grass o'ergrown,
A grave in the heart of his mother,
His clay in the one, lifeless and lone,
But his memory lives in the other.
Firm as the firmest where duty led,
He hurried without a falter;
Bold as the boldest he fought and bled,
And the day was won--but the field was red;
And the blood of his fresh young heart was shed,
On his country's hallowed altar.
CHORUS.
On the trampled breast of the battle plain,
Where the foremost ranks had wrestled,
The fairest form 'mid all the slain,
Like a child asleep he nestled.
In the solemn of the woods that swept
The field where his comrades found him,
They buried him there--and strong men wept,
As in silence they gathered 'round him.
CHORUS.
THE CAVALIER'S GLEE.
By CAPT. BLACKFORD, of General Stuart's Staff.
_Air--"The Pirate's Glee."_
Spur on! spur on! we love the bounding
Of barbs that bear us to the fray;
"The charge" our bugles now are sounding,
And our bold Stuart leads the way.
CHORUS.--The path to honor lies before us
Our hated foeman gather fast;
At home bright eyes are sparkling for us,
And we'll defend them to the last.
Spur on! spur on! we love the rushing
Of steeds that spurn the turf they tread;
We'll through the Northern ranks go crushing,
With our proud battle-flag o'erhead.
CHORUS.
Spur on! spur on! we love the flashing
Of blades that battle to be free;
'Tis for our sunny South they're clashing,
For household gods and liberty.
CHORUS.
SONG.
_Air--"Faintly Flows the Falling River."_
Here we bring a fragrant tribute,
To the bed where valor sleeps,
Though they missed the victor's triumph,
O'er their tomb a nation weeps,
Honor through all time be rendered,
To their proud, heroic names,
Fondly be their mem'ry cherished,
Bright their never-dying fame.