Yes, yes, old flag, we love thee,
Although bedimm'd with gore,
We follow thee through battle,
We'll follow thee once more.
Although thy staff is shattered,
The Stripes are torn and gory,
Thy stars the brighter seem to us,
Since covered o'er with glory.
Though many fell beneath thy folds,
To keep thee still aflying,
They gazed upon thy bars of gold,
And blessed thee, too, when dying.
We'll bear thee onward thro' the strife,
'Mid shot and shell and blow,
We'll never yield thee but with life,
To any traitor foe.
* * * * *
[Written for the _Cartridge Box_.]
The 84th, we are the crew,
To raise the Stripes, Red, White and Blue.
MacDowell, now, who takes command,
Will lead us on through Dixie's Land.
Pennsylvania's favorite Sons,
Always true and Loyal ones.
Old Jeff may ride jackass or mule,
We're bound to catch him his neck to pull.