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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
Take a couble parrels of sauer-kraut, Und lots of schweitzer kase, Also, some perloona sausage, Und everyting else you please.
Und ven der pattle commence, Kill all der Yankees you can, Und schump perhind some pig oak-tree, For dot ish der officer's blan.
Yust lower your knapsack down yer back, Und cover up your rear, Den you von't get vounded, Like dis Dutcher Volunteer.
SOUTHERN SONG OF FREEDOM.
A nation has sprung into life Beneath the bright Cross of the South; And now a loud call to the strife Rings out from the shrill bugle's mouth. They gather from morass and mountain, They gather from prairie and mart, To drink, at young Liberty's fountain, The Nectar that kindles the heart.
CHORUS--Then, hail to the land of the pine! The home of the noble and free; A palmetto wreath we'll entwine Round the altar of young Liberty!
Our flag, with its cluster of stars, Firm fixed in a field of pure blue, All shining through red and white bars, Now gallantly flutters in view. The stalwart and brave round it rally, They press to their lips every fold, While the hymn swells from hill and from valley, "Be God with our Volunteers bold." CHORUS.
Th' invaders rush down from the North, Our borders are black with their hordes; Like wolves for their victims they flock, While whetting their knives and their swords. Their watchword is "Booty and Beauty," Their aim is to steal as they go; But, Southrons, act up to your duty, And lay the foul miscreants low. CHORUS.
The God of our fathers looks down And blesses the cause of the just; His smile will the patriot crown Who tramples his chains in the dust. March, March, Southrons! Shoulder to shoulder, One heart-throb, one shout for the cause; Remember--the world's a beholder, And your bayonets are fixed at your doors! CHORUS.
J. J. H.
"CALL ALL! CALL ALL!"
Whoop! the Doodles have broken loose, Roaring round like the very deuce; Lice of Egypt, a hungry pack,-- After 'em, boys, and drive 'em back.
Bull dog, terrier, cur, and fice, Back to the beggarly land of ice, Worry 'em, bite 'em, scratch and tear Everybody and everywhere.
Old Kentucky is caved from under, Tennessee is split asunder, Alabama awaits attack, And Georgia bristles up her back.
Old John Brown is dead and gone! Still his spirit is marching on,-- Lantern-jawed, and legs, my boys, Long as an ape's from Illinois.
Want a weapon? Gather a brick, Club or cudgel, or stone or stick; Anything with a blade or butt, Anything that can cleave or cut.
Anything heavy, or hard, or keen! Any sort of a slaying machine! Anything with a willing mind, And the steady arm of a man behind.
Shoulder to shoulder, son and sire! All, call! all to the feast of fire! Mother and maiden, and child and slave, A common triumph or a single grave.
ANOTHER YANKEE DOODLE.
Yankee Doodle had a mind To whip the Southern traitors, Because they didn't choose to live On codfish and potatoes, Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo, Yankee Doodle dandy, And to keep his courage up He took a drink of brandy.
Yankee Doodle made a speech; 'Twas very full of feeling; "I fear," says he, "I cannot fight, But I am good at stealing." Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo, Yankee Doodle dandy, Hurrah for Lincoln, he's the boy To take a drop of brandy.
Yankee Doodle drew his sword, And practised all the passes; Come, boys, we'll take another drink When we get to Manassas. Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo, Yankee Doodle dandy, They never reached Manassas plain, And never got the brandy.
Yankee Doodle soon found out That Bull Run was no trifle; For if the North knew how to steal, The South knew how to rifle. Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo, Yankee Doodle dandy, 'Tis very clear I took too much Of that infernal brandy.
Yankee Doodle wheeled about, And scampered off at full run, And such a race was never seen As that he made at Bull Run. Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo, Yankee Doodle dandy, I haven't time to stop just now, To take a drop of brandy.
Yankee Doodle, oh! for shame, You're always intermeddling; Let guns alone, they're dangerous things; You'd better stick to peddling. Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo, Yankee Doodle dandy. When next I go to Bully Run I'll throw away the brandy.
"YE MEN OF ALABAMA!"
Ye men of Alabama, Awake, arise, awake And rend the coils asunder Of this abolition snake. If another fold he fastens-- If this final coil he plies-- In the cold clasp of hate and power, Fair Alabama dies.
Though round your lower limbs and waist His deadly coils I see, Yet, yet, thank heaven! your head and arms, And good right hand, are free; And in that hand there glistens-- O, God! what joy to feel! A polished blade, full sharp and keen, Of tempered State rights' steel.
Now, by the free-born sires From whose brave loins ye sprung, And by the noble mothers At whose fond breasts ye hung! And by your wives and daughters, And by the ills they dread Drive deep that good secession steel Right through the monster's head.
Brave little South Carolina Will strike the self-same blow, And Florida, and Georgia, And Mississippi, too, And Arkansas, and Texas; And at the death, I ween, The head will fall beneath the blows Of all the brave fifteen.
In this, our day of trial, Let feuds and factions cease, Until above this howling storm We see the sign of peace. Let Southern men, like brothers, In solid phalanx stand, And poise their spears, and lock their shields To guard their native land.
Southrons! who with Beauregard, Day and night, keep watch and ward-- Southrons! whom the angels guard, Strike for Liberty! Smite the motley hireling throng; Smite! as Heaven smites the wrong; Smite! they fly before the strong, In God and Liberty!
Louder swells the battle-cry, Flaming sword and flashing eye Light the field when freemen die! Death or Liberty! Backward roll your poisonous waves, Infidel and ruffian slaves! 'Tis Heaven's own wrath your blindness braves-- God and Liberty!
WASHINGTON, D. C.
WOULD'ST THOU HAVE ME LOVE THEE?
Would'st thou have me love thee, dearest, With a woman's proudest heart, Which shall ever hold thee nearest Shrined in its inmost heart? Listen, then! My country's calling On her sons to meet the foe! Leave these groves of rose and myrtle; Drop thy dreamy harp of love! Like young Korner--scorn the turtle, When the eagle screams above!
Dost thou pause? Let dastards dally, Do thou for thy country fight! 'Neath her noble emblem rally-- "God, our country, and our right!" Listen! now her trumpets calling On her sons to meet the foe! Woman's heart is soft and tender, But 'tis proud and faithful too: Shall she be her land's defender? Lover! Soldier! up and do!
Seize thy father's ancient falchion, Which once flashed as freedom's star! 'Til sweet peace--the bow and halcyon-- Stilled the stormy strife of war. Listen! now thy country's calling On her sons to meet the foe! Sweet is love in moonlight bowers! Sweet the altar and the flame! Sweet the Spring-time with her flowers! Sweeter far the patriot's name!
Should the God who smiles above thee, Doom thee to a soldier's grave, Hearts will break, but fame will love thee, Canonized among the brave! Listen, then! thy country's calling On her sons to meet the foe! Rather would I view thee lying On the last red field of strife, 'Mid thy country's heroes dying, Than become a dastard's wife!
THAT BUGLER;
OR, THE UPIDEE SONG.
Words by A. G. KNIGHT.
Music by ARMAND.
The shades of night were falling fast, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, The bugler blows that well-known blast Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, No matter should it rain or snow, That bugler he is bound to blow.
CHORUS--Up--i--de--i--de--i--di, U--pi--de, u--pi--de, U--pi--de--i--de--i--di, Up--i--de--i--di, U--pi--de--i--de--i--di, U--pi--de--u--pi--di, U--pi--de--i--de--i--di.
He saw, as in their bunks they lay, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, How soldiers spent the dawning day, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, "There's too much comfort there," said he, "And so I'll blow the 'Reveille.'" CHORUS.
In nice log huts he saw the light, Of cabin fires, warm and bright, The sight afforded him no heat, And so he sounded the "Retreat."
Upon the fire he saw a pot, Of sav'ry viands smoking hot, Said he, "they shan't enjoy that stew," Then "Boots and saddles" loudly blew.
They scarce their half cooked meal begin, Ere orderly cries out "Fall in," Then off they march thro' mud and rain, P'raps only to march back again.
But soldiers, you were made to fight, To starve all day, and watch all night, And should you chance get bread and meat, That bugler will not let you eat.
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