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Read Ebook: Southern War Songs: Camp-Fire Patriotic and Sentimental by Fagan W L William Long Compiler
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Ebook has 2103 lines and 97357 words, and 43 pages
SOUTHERN WAR SONGS
SOUTHERN WAR SONGS.
Camp-Fire, PATRIOTIC and Sentimental.
COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY W. L. FAGAN
New York M. T. RICHARDSON & CO. 1890.
COPYRIGHTED BY M. T. RICHARDSON. 1889.
LIST OF ENGRAVINGS.
SOUTHERN WAR SONGS.
GOD SAVE THE SOUTH.
Words by GEORGE H. MILES; Music by C. W. A. ELLERBROCK; Permission of A. E. BLACKMAR.
God save the South, God save the South, Her altars and firesides, God save the South, Now that the war is nigh, Chanting our battle-cry Freedom or death.
CHORUS--Now that the war is nigh, Now that we arm to die, Chanting the battle cry, Freedom or death.
God be our shield, At home or afield, Stretch thine arm over us, Strengthen and save. What tho' they're three to one, Forward each sire and son, Strike till the war is won, Strike to the grave. CHORUS.
Hark honor's call, Summoning all, Summoning all of us Unto the strife. Sons of the South awake! Strike till the brand shall break, Strike for dear Honor's sake, Freedom and Life. CHORUS.
War to the hilt, Their's be the guilt, Who fetter the freeman, To ransom the slave. Up, then, and undismayed, Sheathe not the battle blade Till the last foe is laid Low in the grave! CHORUS.
God save the South, God save the South, Her altars and firesides, God save the South! For the great war is nigh, And we will win or die, Chanting our battle cry, Freedom or death. CHORUS.
"ALLONS ENFANS."
Sons of the South awake to glory, A thousand voices bid you rise, Your children, wives and grandsires hoary, Gaze on you now with trusting eyes, Gaze on you now with trusting eyes; Your country ev'ry strong arm calling, To meet the hireling Northern band That comes to desolate the land With fire and blood and scenes appalling, To arms, to arms, ye brave; Th' avenging sword unsheath!
March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death. March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death.
Now, now, the dang'rous storm is rolling, Which treacherous brothers madly raise, The dogs of war let loose, are howling And soon our peaceful towns may blaze, And soon our peaceful towns may blaze. Shall fiends who basely plot our ruin, Unchecked, advance with guilty stride To spread destruction far and wide, With Southrons' blood their hands embruing? To arms, to arms, ye brave! Th' avenging sword unsheath!
March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death, March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death.
March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death, March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death.
This may be called the rallying song of the Confederacy. Composed early in 1861, it was sung throughout the South while the soldiers were hurried to Virginia with this, the grandest of martial airs, as a benediction.
"THE SOUTHERN CROSS."
Published in 1860, a few months before the author's death.
Oh! say can you see, through the gloom and the storms, More bright for the darkness, that pure constellation? Like the symbol of love and redemption its form, As it points to the haven of hope for the nation. How radiant each star, as the beacon afar, Giving promise of peace, or assurance in war!
CHORUS--'Tis the Cross of the South, which shall ever remain To light us to freedom and glory again!
How peaceful and blest was America's soil, 'Til betrayed by the guile of the Puritan demon, Which lurks under virtue, and springs from its coil To fasten its fangs in the life-blood of freemen. Then boldly appeal to each heart that can feel, And crush the foul viper 'neath Liberty's heel! CHORUS.
And if peace should be hopeless and justice denied, And war's bloody vulture should flap its black pinions, Then gladly "To arms," while we hurl, in our pride, Defiance to tyrants and death to their minions! With our front to the field, swearing never to yield, Or return, like the Spartan, in death on our shield!
CHORUS--And the Cross of the South shall triumphantly wave As the flag of the free or the pall of the brave.
THE STAR OF THE WEST.
I wish I was in de land o' cotton, Old times dair ain't not forgotten-- Look away, etc. In Dixie land whar I was born in, Early on one frosty mornin'-- Look away, etc.
CHORUS--Den I wish I was in Dixie.
In Dixie land dat frosty mornin', Jis 'bout de time de day was dawnin'-- Look away, etc. De signal fire from de East bin roarin', Rouse up, Dixie, no more snorin'-- Look away, etc. CHORUS.
Dat rocket high a-blazing in de sky, 'Tis de sign dat de snobbies am comin' up nigh-- Look away, etc. Dey bin braggin' long, if we dare to shoot a shot, Dey comin' up strong and dey'll send us all to pot, Fire away, fire away, lads in gray. CHORUS.
THE SOUTHRON'S CHANT OF DEFIANCE.
Music by A. E. BLACKMAR.
You can never win us back Never! never! Though we perish on the track Of your endeavor; Though our corses strew the earth, That smiled upon their birth, And blood pollutes each hearth Stone forever!
You have no such blood as ours For the shedding: In the veins of cavaliers Was its heading! You have no such stately men In your "abolition den," To march through foe and fen, Nothing dreading!
We may fall before the fire Of your legions, Paid with gold for murderous hire-- Bought allegiance; But for every drop you shed, You shall have a mound of dead, And the vultures shall be fed In your regions.
But the battle to the strong Is not given, While the judge of right and wrong Sits in Heaven! And the God of David still Guides the pebble with his will. There are giants yet to kill-- Wrongs unshriven.
THE DUTCH VOLUNTEER.
As sung by HARRY MACARTHY in his Personation Concerts, 1862.
It vas in Ni Orleans city, I first heard der drums und fife, Und I vas so full mit lager, Dot I care nix for my life.
Mit a schicken tail stuck in mine hat, I marched up midout fear, Und joined der Southern Army, Like a Dutche--a volunteer.
Ven ve vent apoard der steampote, Ve told um all good-by, Ter vimins wafed der handkerchief, Und I pegun to gry.
Vhen we got to vere de var vas, Dey stood us in a row, Und learned us ven dey hollered out, Vich vay ve have to go.
Dey loads our guns mit noding, Und learn to shoot um right, Und charge upon der Yankee, Ven no Yankee vas in sight.
My name is Yacob Schneider, Und I yust come here to-night From Hood's Army up in Georgia, Ver all de times dey fight.
Now, all young folks vot goes out dere, To fight your country's foes, Take my adfice, brepare yourself Pefore out dere you goes.
Take a couble parrels of sauer-kraut, Und lots of schweitzer kase, Also, some perloona sausage, Und everyting else you please.
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