Come forth, ye gallant heroes,
Rub up each rusty gun,
And face these hireling Yankees,
Who live by tap of drum.
We Volunteers are wearied,
By a twelve months' "sojourn";
We want to rest a little,
And then we'll fight "again."
We've won some five pitched battles,
But will yield you our "posish";
And if you want some glory,
Why pitch in now, "Melish."
Don't refuse to leave your spouses;
Our own are just as dear,
And each lonely little woman
Longs for her Volunteer.
Don't mind your sobbing sweethearts;
For though 'tis hard to part,
We'll volunteer to cheer 'em,
And console each troubled heart.
For the sake of old Virginia,
Come and fight! _that's if you can_,
And let your prattling babies
Know their daddy was a man.
For you _we've_ fought and struggled;
Had "no furloughs"--nary one--
We want a little resting,
And so we're coming home.
Then _forward_, bold Militia!
"If you're coming, come along,"
Or, by the gods! we'll force you out
To your duty--right or wrong.