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lee's songbook

J


JACK DE RABBIT

A Lining Song

Little red rooster ain't got no comb.... (Little red rooster ain't got no comb)
Just like a rounder ain't got no home.... (Just like a rounder ain't got no home.)
Hey boys! Get right again.

Chorus
Jack de rabbit, Jack de bear; shake it back, boys, just a hair!

Jack de rabbit am hard to catch.... (Jack de rabbit am hard to catch)
'Kase he born an' bred in de briar patch.... ('Kase he born an' bred in de briar patch.)
Hey boys! Get right again.

Rabbit's heel t'ree feet behind.... (Rabbit's heel t'ree feet behind)
Missus Rabbit got kits to mind.... (Missus Rabbit got kits to mind)
Hey boys! Get right again.

My name am also Jack de Bear.... (My name am also Jack de Bear)
My home am not nowhere.... (My home am not nowhere)
Hey boys! Get right again.


JACOB'S LADDER

Negro Spiritual
"....and behold, a ladder was set on the earth
with its top reaching to heaven... Genesis 28:12

We are climbing Jacob's ladder; we are climbing Jacob's ladder;
We are climbing Jacob's ladder, soldiers of the cross.

Every round goes higher, higher; every round goes higher, higher;
Every round goes higher, higher, soldiers of the cross.

Sinner, do you love my Jesus? Sinner, do you love my Jesus?
Sinner, do you love my Jesus? Soldiers of the cross.

If you love him, why not serve him? If you love him, why not serve him?
If you love him, why not serve him? Soldiers of the cross.

We are climbing higher, higher; we are climbing higher, higher;
We are climbing higher, higher, soldiers of the cross.

We are climbing Jacob's ladder; we are climbing Jacob's ladder;
We are climbing Jacob's ladder, soldiers of the cross.


JEANIE WITH THE LIGHT BROWN HAIR

Words And Music By Stephen Collins Foster
1854

I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair,
Borne, like a vapor, on the summer air:
I see her tripping where the bright streams play,
Happy as the daisies that dance on her way.
Many were the wild notes her merry voice would pour,
Many were the blithe birds that warbled them o'er:
Oh! I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair;
Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air.

I long for Jeanie with the day-dawn smile,
Radiant in gladness, warm with winning guile;
I hear her melodies, like joys gone by,
Sighing round my heart o'er the fond hopes that die:
Sighing like the night wind and sobbing like the rain,
Waiting for the lost one that comes not again:
Oh! I long for Jeanie, and my heart bows low,
Never more to find her where the bright waters flow.

I sigh for Jeanie, but her light form strayed
Far from the fond hearts round her native glade;
Her smiles have vanished and her sweet songs flown,
Flitting like the dreams that have cheered us and gone.
Now the nodding wild flowers may wither on the shore
While her gentle fingers will cull them no more:
Oh! I sigh for Jeanie with the light brown hair,
Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air.

"Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair" is perhaps the most famous of Foster's heroines.  The Jeanie of this song is no other than Stephen Foster's wife, whose nickname was "Jennie" and whose full name was Jane Denny McDowell.  Stephen Foster's niece remembered that her father sang the song to her with the pronunciation of "Jennie" rather than "Jeanie." The song might have helped to bring Jane back to Stephen Foster when they were temporarily separated in 1853, three years after their marriage.


Jeff Davis On Arming The Nigger
Words By M.B. Ladd
February 1865
To the tune of HAPPY LAND OF CANAAN

Jeff Davis, he swore, in his wrath, he would arm -
O yes! he would arm every nigger;
He thought that the Yankees would all take alarm
If darkies should once pull the trigger!

Chorus
But Jeff, you must go to the regions below,
Our country you never can sever;
And the blood you have shed shall be on your vile head,
And damn you forever and ever!

Great Grant has a knack of driving Lee back,
Thus making you cut a sad figure;
He'll whittle you down from the sole to the crown,
And make you abandon your nigger.

And we have another - Ulysses' brother -
As great as himself, perhaps bigger,
Who is driving about in panic and rout
Your armies, your horses, and nigger.

Brave Sherman's his name and "Traitors" his game;
ATLANTA, SAVANNAH can figure.
Poor Hood, he said "No," but Sherman would go,
For he is not much of a digger.

Says Hood in his spite, "I'll make it all right
With Thomas, just over the river!"
Then with a loud shout, cries "Right wheel about,
For Thomas who has a white liver!"

Sly Thomas fell back - it was only a knack
Of assuming to have a white liver;
Then he hit Hood a blow that made the blood flow,
And knocked him clear over the river!

There is Farragut, too, a sailor most true
Who oft makes you to tremble and shiver;
Your stars and your bars he has given rude jars,
The land that we love to deliver!

Fort Fisher was strong, 'twas your pride and your song,
No Yankees had power to take it;
But our Porter and Terry have made you less merry,
While in "the last ditch" you are shaking.

Now, Jeff Davis, you can't beat Sherman or Grant,
Or Thomas, they're smarter and bigger;
And brave little Phil, he gave Early a pill,
That made him "go off" like a trigger!

And though you shall fight till eternity's night,
And put in your ranks every nigger,
Our flag it shall fly, and treason shall die,
By pulling each true Union trigger!

Final Chorus
So Jeff you must go to the regions below,
Our country you never can sever;
But the blood you have shed shall be on your vile head,
And damn you forever and ever!

Johnson, Printer, No. 7 North 10th St.

 


jenny lind
From CHRISTY'S NIGGA SONGSTER
To the tune of LUCY NEAL
1850

From Sweden's northern city
The sound of song was h'ard
The charm of gushing melody
The notes of a singing bird;
'Twas not low music on the gale,
Nor bells upon the wind;
It was the voice of a "nightingale,"
Whose name is Jenny Lind.

Chorus
Oh, charming Jenny Lind,
Sweet warbling Jenny Lind,
Welcome to Old England's shores,
And honor you shall find.

Now down into the Haymarket
This Nightingale has flew;
Oh! what will Persiani then
And Tamburini do?
Now Jenny's at the Opera,

The Garden will be thinned,
For the Queen and Albert's sure to go
To hear sweet Jenny Lind.

Oh! don't you know the Poet Man
And don't you know his name?
Oh! don't you know the Hot Cross Bun
That lives in Drury Lane?
He tried to catch this Nightingale
(Lord how de nigger grinned,)
By putting salt upon her tail,
But away flew Jenny Lind.

Oh! won't I pack up de ole banjo,
And screw de steam on tight,
And now she has to England come,
I'll grab her some fine night,
And to old Carolina go;
I'm darned if I ain't skinned,

To show de free-born 'Mericans,
De lubly Jenny Lind.

Chorus
So come along Jenny Lind,
My charming Jenny Lind,
Dis child shall play on de ole banjo,
While you sing, Jenny Lind.

An' if she wants a husband smart,
Why, I does want a wife;
I'll gib her my Ethiopian heart,
An' lub her all my life.
Dar's many a prince and gen'alman
Dat's whiter dan me skin
Won't bear so true a heart as mine
For lovely Jenny Lind.

When I was down in Kentucky,
I saw a Venus dere,
But she to Madam Jenny Lind

Was nothin' to compare;
Oh! lub, you've been de nigger's ruin,
Since Modern Eve first sinned,
An' you have been my own undoin'
Wicked Jenny Lind.

Final Chorus
Oh! farewell, Jenny Lind,
Wicked Jenny Lind,
I'll hang myself for your dear sake,
An' dangle in de wind.


Jessie, The Flower O' Dumblane
A Favorite Scottish Song
Words By Robert Tannahill
Music By Robert Archibald Smith, &
Dedicated to his friend James McFarlan, London
1808

The sun has gone down on the lofty Ben Lomond,
And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene;
While lonely I stray in the calm summer gloaming
To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane.


How sweet is the briar wi' its soft foulding blossom,
And sweet is the birch wi' its mantle o' green;
Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom
Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane.

She's modest as any, and blithe as she's bonny,
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain;
And far be the villain, divested o' feeling,
Who'd blight in its bloom the sweet flower o' Dumblane.


Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymns to the evening,
Thou'rt dear to the echoes o' Calderwood glen;
So dear to this bosom, so artless and winning
Is charming young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane.

How lost were my days 'till I met wi' my Jessie,
The sports of the city seem'd foolish and vain;
I ne'er saw a nymph I could call my dear lassie,
'Till charm'd wi' sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane.

Though mine was the station of loftiest grandeur,
Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain;
And reckon as nothing the height o' its splendour
If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane.



Jesus Joy Of Our Desiring

Words By Martin Janus
Music By Johann Schop
Arranged by Johann Sebastian Bach,
1723

Jesus, joy of our desiring,
Holy wisdom, love most bright;
Drawn by Thee, our souls aspiring
Soar to uncreated light.
Word of God, our flesh that fashioned,
With the fire of life impassioned,
Striving still to truth unknown,
Soaring, dying round Thy throne.

Through the way where hope is guiding,
Hark, what peaceful music rings;
Where the flock, in Thee confiding,
Drink of joy from deathless springs.
Theirs is beauty's fairest pleasure;
Theirs is wisdom's holiest treasure.
Thou dost ever lead Thine own
In the love of joys unknown.


Jesus, Lover Of My Soul
Words By Charles Wesley
Music By Simeon Butler Marsh
1834

Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll, while the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Savior, hide, till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide; O receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none, hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone, still support and comfort me.
All my trust on Thee is stayed, all my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head with the shadow of Thy wing.

Wilt Thou not regard my call? Wilt Thou not accept my prayer?
Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall - Lo! on Thee I cast my care;
Reach me out Thy gracious hand! While I of Thy strength receive,
Hoping against hope I stand, dying, and behold, I live.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want, more than all in Thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Just and holy is Thy Name, I am all unrighteousness;

False and full of sin I am; Thou art full of truth and grace.

Plenteous grace with Thee is found, grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound; make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art, freely let me take of Thee;
Spring Thou up within my heart; rise to all eternity.

The words by Charles Wesley were originally published in HYMNS AND SACRED POEMS in 1740.

Mrs. Mary Hoover of Bellefonte, Pennsylvania, whose grandmother was the heroine of the story behind the words of this hymn, related this family tradition:

Charles Wesley was preaching in the fields of the parish of Killyleagh, County Down, Ireland, when he was attacked by men who violently disagreed with his doctrines.  Wesley sought refuge in a house located on what was then known as the Island Barn Farm.  The farmer's wife, Jane Lowrie Moore, hid him in the milk house, which was down in the garden.  The mob soon arrived and demanded that she turn over to them Charles Wesley.  Trying to calm them and perhaps even distract them from their intention of doing harm to Mr. Wesley, she offered them refreshments.  Taking the opportunity to give the mob of men something to drink, she went down to the milk house where she directed Mr. Wesley to slip out through the rear window of the milk house and hide under a hedge which grew against the milk house and on the banks of a small brook.  Hidden in that hedge beside the brook, the cries of his foe-men all around him, he is supposed to have composed these words. 


Jesus Shall Reign
Words By Isaac Watts, PSALMS OF DAVID - 1719
Music Attributed to John C. Hatton - 1793

Jesus shall reign where'er the sun
Does his successive journeys run;
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
Till moons shall wax and wane no more.

Behold the islands with their kings,
And Europe her best tribute brings;
From north to south the princes meet,
To pay their homage at his feet.

There Persia, glorious to behold,
There India shines in eastern gold;
And barb'rous nations at his word
Submit, and bow, and own their Lord.

To him shall endless prayer be made,
And praises throng to crown His head;
His Name like sweet perfume shall rise
With every morning sacrifice.

People and realms of every tongue
Dwell on His love with sweetest song;
And infant voices shall proclaim
Their early blessings on His Name.

Blessings abound wherever He reigns;
The pris'ner leaps to lose his chains;
The weary find eternal rest,
And all the sons of want are blessed.

Where He displays His healing power,
Death and the curse are known no more:
In Him the tribes of Adam boast
More blessings than their father lost.

Let every creature rise and bring
Peculiar honors to our King;
Angels descend with songs again,
And earth repeat the loud amen!

Great God, whose universal sway
The known and unknown worlds obey,
Now give the kingdom to Thy Son,
Extend His power, exalt His throne.

The scepter well becomes His hands;
All heav'n submits to His commands;
His justice shall avenge the poor,
And pride and rage prevail no more.

With power He vindicates the just,
And treads th' oppressor in the dust:
His worship and His fear shall last
Till hours, and years, and time be past.

As rain on meadows newly mown,
So shall He send his influence down:
His grace on fainting souls distills,
Like heav'nly dew on thirsty hills.

The heathen lands, that lie beneath
The shades of overspreading death,
Revive at His first dawning light;
And deserts blossom at the sight.

The saints shall flourish in His days,
Dressed in the robes of joy and praise;
Peace, like a river, from His throne
Shall flow to nations yet unknown.

The words, written by Isaac Watts, were first published in Watts' PSALMS OF DAVID in 1719.  The music, a melody called "Duke Street", is believed to have been written by John C. Hatton and published first in 1793.

G. J. Stevenson's NOTES ON THE METHODIST HYMN BOOK says of this song:

"Perhaps one of the most interesting occasions on which this hymn was used was that on which King George, the sable, of the South Sea Islands, but of blessed memory, gave a new constitution to his people, exchanging a heathen for a Christian form of government. Under the spreading branches of the banyan trees sat some thousand natives from Tonga, Fiji, and Samoa, on Whitsunday, 1862, assembled for Divine worship. Foremost amongst them all sat King George himself. Around him were seated old chiefs and warriors who had shared with him the dangers and fortunes of many a battle, men whose eyes were dim, and whose powerful frames were bowed down with the weight of years. But old and young alike rejoiced together in the joys of that day, their faces most of them radiant with Christian joy, love, and hope. It would be impossible to describe the deep feeling manifested when the solemn service began, by the entire audience singing Dr. Watts' hymns. 

"Who so much as they could realize the full meaning of the poet's words? For they had been rescued from the darkness of heathenism and cannibalism and they were that day met for the first time under a Christian constitution, under a Christian king, and with Christ Himself reigning in the hearts of most of those present. That was indeed Christ's kingdom set up in the earth."


JIM CRACK CORN
See also BLUE TAIL FLY and DE BLUE TAILED FLY
1846

When I was young, I us'd to wait on Massa and hand him de plate;
Pass down de bottle when he git dry, and bresh away de blue tail fly.

Chorus
Jim crack corn, I don't care; Jim crack corn, I don't care;
Jim crack corn I don't care, Ole Massa gone away.

Den arter dinner Massa sleep, he bid dis niggar vigil keep;
An' when he gwine to shut his eye, he tell me "Watch de blue tail fly."

An' when he ride in de artenoon, I foller wid a hickory broom;
De poney, being berry shy when bitten by de blue tail fly.

One day he rode aroun' de farm, de flies so nummerous dey did swarm;
One chance to bite 'im on the thigh - 'De debble take dat blue tail fly."

De poney run, he jump an' pitch, an tumble Massa in de ditch;
He died, an' de jury wonder'd why: de verdick was de blue tail fly.

Dey laid 'im under a 'simmon tree, his epitaph am dar to see:
'Beneath dis stone I'm forced to lie, all by de means ob de blue tail fly.

Ole Massa gone - now let 'im rest - dey say all tings am for de best;
I nebber forget till de day I die ole Massa an' dat blue tail fly.

Published by F. D. Benteen, Baltimore, 1846


Jim Crow
1829

Come, listen all you gals and boys,
I'se just from Tuckyhoe;
I'm goin' to sing a little song -
My name's Jim Crow.

Chorus
Weel about and turn about and do jis so,
Eb'ry time I weel about, I jump Jim Crow.


I went down to the river,
I didn't mean to stay;
But dere I see so many gals,
I couldn't get away.

And arter I been dere awhile,
I t'ought I push my boat;
But I tumbled in de river,
And I find myself afloat.

I git upon a flat boat,
I cotch de Uncle Sam;
Den I went to see de place where
Dey kill'd de Packenham.


And den I go to Orleans,
An' feel so full of flight
Dey put me in de Calaboose,
An' keep me dere all night.

When I got out I hit a man,
His name I now forgot;
But dere was not'ing left of him
'Cept a little grease spot.

And oder day I hit a man -
De man was mighty fat -
I hit so hard I nockt him in
To an old cock't hat.

I whipt my weight in wildcats,
I eat a alligator;
I drunk de Mississippy up!
O! I'm de very creature.


I sit upon a hornet's nest,
I dance upon my head;
I tie a wiper round my neck
An' den I go to bed.

I kneel to de buzzard,
An' I bow to the crow;
An' eb'ry time I weel about,
I jump jis so.



JIM CROW

Old Jim Crow's come agin, as you must all know,
And ebery body say I cum to jump Jim Crow.

Chorus
Wheel about and turn about, and do jis so,
Ebery time I weel about, I jump Jim Crow.

My name is Daddy Rice, as you berry well do know.
And none in de Nited States like me, can jump Jim Crow.

I was born in a cane brake, and cradled in a trough,
Swam de Mississippi, whar I cotch'd de hoopen coff.

To whip my weight in wild cats, eat an alligator,
And drink de Mississippi dry, I'm de very critter.

I went to de woods, heard a debil of a howl,
I look'd up a tree, and saw a great owl.

I off wid my hat, stuck my heel in de ground,
And then went to work to grin the owl down.

I grinn'd wid my eyes open, and den wid um shut,
But I could not diskiver dat I stirred de owl a foot.

Den I grinn'd slantendicular, den wid one eye,
'Twould have done your soul good to see de feathers fly.

Den I climb'd up de tree, and I wish I may be shot,
If I hadn't been grinning at a great pine knot.

I'm like de frost in ole December, git my foot widin de ground,
Takes a hook and ladder company to try to pull me down.

And eben when you get me down, I melt and run about;
You'll hab to send for engine to cum and put me out.

Though you tink you got me out, some heat dar will remain,
Nex' morning, bright and early, I'll be blazing up agin.

I've been to ole Kentucky, whar I hab you for to know,
Dat all de pretty ladies dar lub Jim Crow.

I've been to Philadelphia, New York and Baltimore,
But when I got to Boston, it beat all I'd seen before.

Dey build most all dar houses out ob brick and stone,
Dey run em up so high, dey almost reach de moon.

Dey talk ob de Philadelphia markets, an de New York markets, loud,
But de ole market, here in Boston, will be seen among de crowd.

No matter what is wantin', in de market you can buy
From a quarter of an ox down to a punkin pie.

Dare is somet'ing I gwaing to tell you, which I want you all to know,
Dare is a pretty lady here in lub wid Jim Crow.

Lor bless de lubly creature, I teach dem how to dance,
And show dem de new step just arrived from France.

Dis is de style ob Alabama, what dey hab in Mobile,
And dis is Louisiana, whar dey 'trike upon de heel.

Here's Virginny double trouble, whar dey dance de corn chuck,
And dare's de real scientific, what dey hab in Kentuck.

Here's de long Island ube, or de hunck ober dee,
And here's de Georgia step, by de double rule ob tree.

Here's de kneel to Carleton's daughter, what dey hab in Indi-an,
And here's de ole Mississippi step, and fetch it if you can.

And dare is ole Virginny, she cut a pretty figger,
I neber go dar, 'kase dey don't respect de nigger.

It was twelve o'clock de udder night, or somewhere dare about,
I took my finger for de snuffers, and put de candle out.

De debil take de noise when de nigger is so tire,
When along came watchman, and hollar, "Fire!! Fire!!"

O, I got out ob de bed, put on my close widout much fright,
And started for de fire in de middle ob de night.

When I got to de fire, I didn't know what to do.
But I heard a gemman cry, "Lay hold ob No. 2."

I went up up to de Colonel, and ax''d how he'd been;
He say, "You sassy nigger, you lay hold ob No. 10."

I work hard at de engine, den de foreman send for rum;
Jolly, how my eye glisten, wen I see it cum.

When I saw de eatables a'comin', says I, "If you please,
I'll thank you for a stiffer, and hunk ob bread and cheese."

I take one horn, and den I take anoder;
When I drink more, white man call me brudder.

Den I went down to Ann Street, didn't mean to stay,
But dey took me to de watch house, and I couldn't get away.

At de tin pot alley, de niggers had a hop;
I went in a little while - didn't mean to stop.

The house was topsy turvey, all turned upside down,
And de niggers had de dance ten foot under groun'.

De wite folks get a barrel of flour, and knock'd de head in,
And den de way dey cried, "Fire!" - I'm sure it was a sin.

De niggers rushed out, as if it was a shower,
And when dey got up stair, dey let 'em hab de flour.

And such a set ob niggers I'm sure was neber seen'
And such fun in white folk I t'ink was berry mean.

I was liv'd in ole Virginny, and dey used to gib me
Hoe cakes, sassafras, and shangalanga tea.

De way dey bake de hoe cake in ole Virginny neber tire,
Dey put de cake upon de foot, and hold de foot to de fire.

If nature make me black man, and oder folks white,
I went to ole Boston, where dey learn me left and right.

I went into de cradle, where dey rock'd sweet Liberty,
And dare I saw de names ob those who made their country free.

I went across to Charlestown, and on to Bunker Hill,
Which once de British tried to climb, but found it diffikil.

'Twas dare I saw de Navy Yard, likewise de Dry Dock,
'Twas lin'd by de best ob stone, dug out ob Quincy Rock.

Near it lay de ship ob war, among dem de Constitution,
Which our brave heroes sail'd in, and put England in confusion.

De finest fun dat eber happened was in de city ob New York,
When dey told de British soger it was time to walk and talk.

Dey didn't know what to t'ink ob it, when dey found dey must be gone,
'Kase dey hab no shoe or 'tocking on, and cold wedder comin' on.

So dey gaddered up dare fixeds, and 'gan to march away,
And sailed for land ob Johnny Bull, about de brake ob day.

When dey got back to England dey didn't fear de debbil,
But dey radder be excused dan fight wid Yankee rebel.

For dey are like a piece ob India rubber, you may hit 'em on de sconce,
De harder dat you knock 'em down, de higher up they bounce.

Dare's a place dey call de Bos'on, once fought for liberty;
Dey'd throw de nullifiers overboard, as once dey did de tea.

Dar's two ole sogers, whose names me no forget,
One was Massa George Washington, de oder Laughayit.

When de war was ober and ebery t'ing content,
De people make George Washington de great President.

Den he put all de States togedder, and tied a string around,
And when de string is broken, boys, dey'll tumble to de ground.

When dey was first set up, dare was only a dozen and one,
But now dare is twenty-four, and a number more to cum.

Dese twenty-four children belong to Uncle Sam,
And hab been bery dutiful, except now and den.

You all know who Uncle Sam is, from de captain to de mate,
He's de fader ob de children of dese 'Nited State.

He's got a handsome fortune by industry's made,
And new his chief concern is, to gib his children a trade.

He's got one sassy daughter, her name is Caroline,
I'm 'fraid he'll hab to tie her up and gib her 39.

Now as for South Carlina, she'd better keep her passion in,
Or else she'll get a licken' now, before she does begin.

Johnny C. Calhoun is courting her, dey say he's got de wedding ring.
And when de wedding ober, dey are going to make him king.

When he walks up to Caroline, her sun-bright hand to take,
Be careful de wedding don't turn out to be an Irish wake.

Dey say South Carolina is a fool, and as for Johnny C. Calhoun,
He'll be worse dan Davy Crockett, when he tried to fool de coon.

Oh, he took up his crooked gun, and fired round de maple tree,
De ball came back in de same place, and hit him on de knee.

O, wite folks, wite folks, I see you're up to snuff,
I'm bery much afraid dat you neber get anuff.

Now wite folks, wite folks, please to let me go,
And I'll cum back anuder night and jump JIM CROW.

Sold, wholesale and retail, by LEONARD DEMING,
At the Sign of the Barber's Pole, No. 61, Hanover Street, Boston,
And at MIDDLEBURY, Vt.


Mr. T. Rice As
The Original Jim Crow

JIM CROW

Complete In 150 Verses

One t'ing tickle me: to see both brack and white -
For ebery little jig a ma gee, dey get a patent right.

Chorus
So I wheel about, I turn about, I do just so,
And ebery time I wheel about, I jump Jim Crow.

In dis here city, soon as de day do peep,
You nebber cotch a wink ob sleep for de damn patent sweep.

Down dare by de park to save your shoes from cracking,
Dere's a goose's Gosling, wid his patent French Blacking,

One t'ing puzzle me - I t'ink it past belief -
Da gib ole Hays a patent right for catching ob de tief.

But ob all de patent right, Massa Cronly is de king,
For de president give him one for making best gin sling.

So when I go to Washington, I hab you all to know,
I mean to get a patent right for jumping of Jim Crow.

Here am I from ole Kentuck', as I hab you all to know;
I's come to learn de Yorkers de style to jump Jim Crow.

Oh, dat is de place for niggars, dey fatten dem on mush;
But if dey go de hul figur, dey make dem cry, "OH HUSH!"

A lofer slept in de park, it is a fact I am told;
A watchman left de gate open, an de lofer cotcht a cold.

I nebber like New Orleans, nor I think I nebber shall
Until de white man luff um be de pretty Creole gal.

Den dere is Charleston, de bragging Nullifiers,
He said he'd lick Uncle Sam, but Uncle made them liars.

But bress dat Baltimore wid a monument of stun,
Erected to de memory ob great Massa Washington.

Dan dare is de state where de niggers lan' from Guinny,
De birth place ob dat great man - t'ree cheers for ol' Virginny.

They hanged a Tory once - it's true I declare -
Dey found him living in a tree wid an ole brack bear.

Den there is Philadelphia wid dere water on de hill,
But I t'ink dare whiskey better, an' I t'ink I eber will.

If you hab got de blue, and for fun you do lack,
Just go in Division Street an' buy a Comic Almynack.

Ice cream is bery good, and so is lemonade,
But I likes better dan dese to kiss de pretty maid.

Cuff hoe de 'bacco, Sambo drive de plongh,
Nobody plays today but our ole sow.

Damn ole sow, she grunt all de day;
An upset de swill tub, when Massa gone away,

Oh, de Flatbush niggers, dey kick up dare heels;
Dey come down to Market an' dance dare for eels.

Dey raise a mighty dust, an' t'ink dey make a show,
But I nebber seed one of dem what could jump Jim Crow.

When you see lazy nigger what lub to tole about,
You may be berry sartin, he raised near Wallabout.

I want to go to Canada, for de only song dey sing
Is dat damn BRITTANY, an' GOD SHAVE DE KING.

But we laugh at de Canada, and de British turned our back on,
For de tune ob YANKEE DOODLE an' hurrah for Jackson.

De ole Wirginny neggar, he knows noffin' at all,
Only for to pull de trigger, an' handle de snob awl.

To shoot de turkey buzzard I once took a gun,
An' when I cocked it at him - Lord, how he run!

Dat was in ole Wirginny, an' I shoot him on de tail,
Den I filled my gun wid brandy, an' kicked him wid a rail.

I once went a-stitchin' to mend my ole shoe,
An' I sit in kitchen wid ole Wirginny Lew.

He took de iron cro'bar to mend his tarnal boot,
And he laid him on he knee, but he wouldn't no how shoot.

I cheated de Yankee, an' will do it again;
I poked him off wid corn stalk, for de best sugar cane.

Massa sent me to buy oyster; now warn't I deep?
I gutted dem on road for fear dey wouldn't keep,

I'm a screamer, so gib me your daughter
And you'll find me up an' down like a yard of pump water.

O, I'm a real Indian doctor an' I got in de box
A settler for a rattlesnake, an' a cure for chicken pox.

Ole women like me, an t'ink me very cute
'Kase I cure all dere pain wid a little yarb and root.

De New York doctor, sure to go to hell,
Where dey send dare patients, wid dare debelish Calomel.

Oh, I'm a rattler, an go de hole team;
When I travel round de country, an' cure de folks by steam.

Two Grahamites went to Philadelphia for to cut a swell,
But where dey lodged de first night, I shouldn't like to tell.

Dey made excuse of business, but dey went more for fun;
When de mayor heard dey were Yorkers, dey had to cut an run.

He fined dem ten dollars an' bid em off to prance
For being found in Shippen Street, a-learning how to dance.

It took away de cash, dis paying ob de fine,
So dey glad to get to York, by de 'commodation line.

But now dey are back agin, dey must do de best dey can
An' make up for lost time, by de Graham plan.

De way to bake a hoe cake, Ole Virginny neber tire:
Stick de hoe cake on the foot, and hold it to the fire.

Old Sam Peacock, stole a side of leather,
Well done, Sam, can't you 'teal anoder?

Dere's meet upon de goose foot, and marrow on de bone,
Dere's pretty gals in our house, and mammy's not at home.

I listed in de army, an sarve Uncle Sam;
Any other sarvice ain't worth a damn.

At New Orleans town, de British went to 'teal,
But when dey see ole Hickory, dey took to dere heel.

Lord how dey cut dirt, and didn't stop to trifle,
For dey didn't like de site ob de dam Yankee rifle.

I'm a touch of de snapping turtle, nine-tenths of a bull dog;
I've turned the Mississippi, all for a pint of grog.

I went to New York, and I t'ink I cut a swell;
And de first place I stopt at was Holt's new hotel.

I went upstairs to peep at de nation,
And dere I met ole Hays and all de corporation.

An alderman got up to top, and called for a glass ob gin;
Says he, "I'm nearer heaven, dan I shall eber be agin."

Dey hab so many good t'ings, as true as I'm a sinner,
I t'ink rader went ahead, ob de corporation dinner.

Dey bid me help myself, an' cut and come again,
An' sure I wasn't slow, when dey brought de Champaign.

But I don't admire de liquor; it bery good for some,
But we gentlemen ob color always prefer de niggar rum.

When I was in Philadelphia, I had to laugh in de 'treet
To see the butcher women in de market selling meat.

Dere you can see de women slipping on like a sled,
With a tub full of Mackeral, which dey carry on dere head.

Sister Dinah hab gib a hint dat Abery will swing;
An' on dat gran occasion, a verse or two I'll sing.

It is his last appearance, I guess upon the stage,
An' I t'ink de naughty feller will exit in a rage.

Now my verses are de best kind, and dis I'm sure no bore,
For ebery time I dance and sing, de people cry "Encore."

For poets are a poor set, as you must all know,
For the more they try to write, de poorer dey do grow.

O I saw a dandy niggar wench, an' I thought that I should die
When I saw her wink at me, and roll round her eye.

She was brack as de debil, an' she hab such a squint
Dat when she wink at me, I couldn't take de hint.

Election coming on, an' I'll try if I can
Just to be elected for a 'Sembly man.

I t'ink if I get in I should suit 'em to a hair,
And de next t'ing dey would do would be to make me mayor.

For de duties ob de 'Sembly men, I t'ink is bery funny
For dey only hab to eat dinners, and spend de peoples' money.

Dey don't mind what folks say, tho it comes from ebery quarter,
And all de people wants is a little wholesome water.

But dat dont concarn dem, for what do you t'ink!
Why water is the only t'ing dat dey do not drink.

I stopt at Washington city - de capitol ob de nation -
An I ax'd Massa Jackson to give me a situation.

Says he, "Jim Crow, what can you do?"
"I can nullify de boot, and put de veto on de shoe."

Says he, "Jim Crow, what can you do for me?"
Says I, "Massa Jackson, I can plant a hickory tree."

Forty eleben debils lived in Noah's ark;
Jona was de fisherman what swallowed down de shark.

It rained forty days, it rained forty nites,
And Noah's Ark rested on de Brooklyn Hites.

O, by trade I am a carpenter, but be it understood,
De way I get a libin' is by sawing de 'tick ob wood.

I hab a sneaking notion, if there's fun to be had,
It's not in skinnin' catfish or in eatin' raw shad.

I was at a ball de odder night, a lady tried to faint;
We poured water on her face nor t'inking dere was paint.

And sich a nasty figgur I'm sure was nebber seen:
A face with streaks of red and white, dat before looked bery clean.

Dis song is getting long, but will be longer still,
For I'm fully tarmined to gib you your fill.

If you want to buy a song, de one you like you'll meet
In a very great variety at 257 Hudson Street.

If I was a regular sweep I'd set the town a ringing,
So musical my verses are, for scantimental singing,

But de real fun ob all is - and dis you all well know -
Is to gib de scientific touch ob jumping Jim Crow.

I'm a full blooded niggar ob de real ole stock,
An wid my head and shoulders, I can split a horse block.

I struck a Jersey niggar in de street de oder day,
An' I hope I neber stir, if he didn't turn grey.

I'm bery much afraid ob late dis jumping will be no good,
For while de Crows are dancing de Whites will saw de wood.

But if dey get honest by sawing wood like slaves,
Dere's end to the business, ob our friend Massa Hays.

I met a New York niggar dressed quite clean
But de way he 'bused de Delphians, I thought was bery mean.

So I knocked down dis Sambo and shut up his light,
For I'm jist about as sassy as if I was half white.

But he soon jump up agin, and 'gan for me to feel;
Says I, "Go away, niggar, or I'll skin you like an eel."

Dere's anoder niggar as cunnin' as a fox;
He's a great steam scourer, and his name is Dandy Cox.

I hab a gal in dis city - she's as quick as a trigger -
And she nebber looks so handsome as when kissed by a niggar.

A white kiss is good enuff, but it don't sound so keen
As when giben by a brack man, wid a great broad grin.

When I do kiss de lubly creatures, I screw my mouth jist so,
For it makes me feel so bery good dat I don't know what to do.

But I nebber kissed a white gal and I hope I neber will,
For you hab to be so delicate, you cannot get your fill.

I went to de chicken coop, and I got upon my knees;
I t'ink I die a-laughing to hear de chickens sneeze.

De great Nullification, and de fuss in de South
Is now before Congress to be tried by de word ob mouth.

Dey hab had no blows yet, an' I hope dey nebber will,
For it's berry cruel in bredren, one anoder's blood to spill.

Wid Jackson at de head dey soon de t'ing may settle,
For ole Hickory is a man dat's tarnal full ob mettle.

Should dey get to fighting, perhaps de bracks will rise,
For deir wish for freedom is shining in deir eyes.

An' if de bracks should get free, I guess they'll feel some bigger,
An' I shall consider it a bold 'troke for de niggar!

I am for freedom, an' for union altogeder;
Although I am a brack man, de white is called my broder.

What stuff it is in dem to make de debil brack?
I'll prove dat he is white in de twinkling of a crack.

For you see, lob'd brodders, as true as he hab a tail,
It be berry wickedness what make he turn pale.

I went to da Hobok to had a promenade,
And dare I saw de pretty girls, drinking de lemonade.

Dat sour and dat sweet, is berry good by gum,
But de best lemonade is made by adding rum.

At de Swan Cottage, is de place I t'ink,
Whar dey hab dis 'licious and 'toxicating drink.

De Filadelphi grog shop you can see as you pass,
And dey sell de bess ob licker for six cents a glass.

Some go to Weehawk, and some to Brooklyn Hites,
But dey better stay at home if dey want to see de sites.

To go to de museum I'm sure it is der duty,
If for not'ing else, jist to see de Sleeping Beauty.

And dere's Daddy Lambert an' a skeleton on de hunkies,
And likeness of Broadway Dandy in a glass case ob monkies.

Dere was one Sam Patch, who took de ugly leap;
He'd better stay in New York and be a chimney sweep.

And if minded he profession, and not too fond ob de cup,
When oders were getting down, he'd sure be getting up.

I seen a pretty gal, wid a tippet and a muff;
I don't know what her trade is, but I guess she's up to snuff.

She went in de dry goods store and winked at de clark;
She ax'd him to come to her house a little arter dark.

He went to de t'ree balls, he watch went up de spout
'Kase de Master in de store, an' he no chance for sourkrout.

Dis wicked boy do dat, all for a painted face
Which bery soon I see, will bring him to disgrace.

I'm for union to a gal, and dis is a stubborn fact;
But if I marry and don't like it, I'll nullify the act.

I'm sure dere be gals enuff to hab a fair chance,
And if I don't get a good one, I'll laff it off and dance.

I'm tired of being a single man, and I'm 'tarmined to git a wife,
For what I t'ink the happiest is de sweet married life.

It's berry common among de whites to marry an' get divorced;
But dat I'll neber do, unless I'm really forced.

I t'ink I see myself on railroad, wid a wife upon my arm,
An' to foller up de fashun dare sure can be no harm.

An' I caution all white dandies not to come in my way,
For as sure as dey insult me, dey'll in the gutter lay.

De Chesnut Street belles, when dey carry full soil,
Around dem wear a funny t'ing, just like a fox's tail.

When you hear de name of it, I sure it make you roar;
Why I ax'd em what it was, and dey said it was a boar.

My sister Dinah I see has made a great debut,
But she cannot dance like me, no more can one ob you.

She's my sista it is true, but dat is not de t'ing,
For what is de use ob wenches trying to jump, dance and sing.

And Cuffelena hab got a plan into effect she'll carry,
And dat is to make a match, and her lubly Sambo marry.

But as for poor Dinah, it's jist as mudder said,
"She be a berry sassy gal, wid a soft place on de head."

She's a 'tarnal sassy niggar, as you I guess can see,
Or she wouldn't make a fuss, and try to blackguard me.

Now my brodder niggars, I do not t'ink it right
Dat you should laff at dem who happen to be white.

'Kase it dare misfortune, and dey'd spend ebery dollar
If dey could only be gentlemen ob color.

It almost break my heart, to see dem envy me,
And from my soul I wish dem full as brack as we.

For I am as true a niggar as ever yet was born,
An' I am a little fractious when I hab a small horn.

For I'm of dancing family, an' I'd rader dance dan pray,
For ob de two professions, de dancing's de best pay.

As I was born in a cane break, an' Dinah in a dough trough
I hope you'll see the difference, and hussle her off.

Now before I leave you, one t'ing I hab to ask:
If de making ob dese lines be not a plagy task.

But if you're not contented, an' t'ink it is not right,
I'll come agin some oder time, and dance all night.

Now white folks, white folks, don't take offence,
An' when I take a benefit, I'll treat to stone fence.

O white folks, white folks, I glad to hear you holler,
But I'll not jump Jim Crow agin unless you hit me with a dollar.

I went to the play house, where I hope ebery body go;
Dare I saw a big niggar making fun ob Jim Crow.

O if you want to buy a funny song, I'll tell you where to go,
Find de printer up in Hudson Street, for he also keeps Jim Crow.

And if you no find him, there's one I'm sure you'll like:
He lives in Division Street, just opposite to Pike.

I hear Massa Randolph behaved mighty droll;
De folks dat held ole Andy back was very big fools.

Best let de ole man fight it out, den Randolph get enuff,
An' no fear ob de general, for ole Hickory's hard stuff.

The man dat insults de laws to prison ought to go;
He must be damn sassy feller, worse dan Jim Crow.

I travel on de Railroad, straight to Amboy;
De car go mighty smooth, but it got too many bad boys.

And went in de front room, two brack fellers fight;
Den de bad fellers keep it up, cry, "Huzza! Darkies, that's right!"

'Spose in dem cars young ladies catch a bad scent;
Before she got to steamboat, she wish she neber went.

I cum to Philadelphia, dat very pretty city;
De ladies dress both neat and fine, dere beaus are smart and witty.

White folks, white folks, I bid you all good bye;
Soon as eber hay time come, Jim Crow will to de country fly.

But may peace and plenty eber be 'Merican people's fate -
So Hurra! for industrious Philadelfia and NY - de great commercial State.




jim jawbone
Or,
YANKEE DOODLE WAS A GEN'LEMAN
To the tune of YANKEE DOODLE

Jim Jawbone was a color'd man,
Ob de true nigga blood, sa,
In old Virginny he did grow,
Among de 'bacca buds, sa.
His fader cum from Alabama,
His moder cum from Guinea,
Dey suckled little Jawbone wid
De leaf ob ole Virginny.

Chorus
Success to de tobacco leaf,
An' nigga's Jawbone Grinny,
Sing may dey raise for our relief,
De plant ob ole Virginny.

Dey cradled in tobacco stalks,
Dis blooming infant black, sa;
An' long before he larnt to talk,
He squealed de name of "bacca."
Soon as young Jim fus larnt to creep,
Dey missed an' thought him killed, sa,
But dey found him in de field asleep,
Upon a bacca hill, sa.

As Jim growed up, de more he show
His vegetable breed, sa;
His 'plexion from the de sable crow,
Turned like de yallar weed, sa;
His limbs growed so jist like de plant,
When cutting time come round, sa,
He took 'em for tobacco stalks,
An' cumself clar down, sa.

So poor Jim Jawbone had to die,
All by dis sad slipstake, sa,
He hung him up wid stalks to dry,
Upon de 'bacca brake, sa;
Dis pipe I cut out ob de bone,
Dat growed out ob his shin, sa,
An' de more I smoke de 'bacca out,
De more keeps coming in, sa.

From Christy's Nigga Songster, As Sung By Christy's, Pierce's, White's and Dumbleton's Minstrels
New York: T. W. Strong, c. 1850


JINE TH' WASHINGTON ARTILLERY

To the tune of DOWN IN ALABAM'

Chorus
If you want to have a good time, jine th' artillery,
Jine th' artillery, jine th' artillery!
If you want to fire a cannon and make the world shake,
If you wanna smell hell, jine th' artillery!

Beauregard sent us to the Army of Tennessee,
Army of Tennessee, Army of Tennessee.
Beauregard sent us to the Army of Tennessee,
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!

Dress us out in red-crowned kepis now,
Red-crowned kepis now, red-crowned kepis now.
Dress us out in red-crowned kepis now,
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!

Prolonge our cannons out onto the battlefield,
Onto the battlefield, onto the battlefield.
Prolonge our cannons out onto the battlefield,
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!

Held our worms and rammers at the ready-o,
Rammers at the ready-o, rammers at the ready-o.
Held our worms and rammers at the ready-o,
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!

Waited for the foe-man to charge at our battery,
Charge at our battery, charge at our battery.
Waited for the foe-man to charge at our battery,
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!

Mowed them down with case shot and canister,
Case shot and canister, case shot and canister.
Mowed them down with case shot and canister,
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!


JINE THE CAVALRY

To the tune of DOWN IN ALABAM'

Chorus
If you want to have a good time, jine the cavalry!
Jine the cavalry! Jine the cavalry!
If you want to catch the Devil, if you want to have fun,
If you want to smell Hell, jine the cavalry!

We're the boys who went around McClellian,
Went around McClellian, went around around McClellian!
We're the boys who went around McClellian,
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!

We're the boys who crossed the Potomicum,
Crossed the Potomicum, crossed the Potomicum!
We're the boys who crossed the Potomicum,
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!

Then we went into Pennsylvania,
Into Pennsylvania, into Pennsylvania!
Then we went into Pennsylvania,
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!

The big fat Dutch gals hand around the breadium,
Hand around the breadium, hand around the breadium!
The big fat Dutch gals hand around the breadium,
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!

Ol' Joe Hooker, won't you come out of The Wilderness?
Come out of The Wilderness, come out of The Wilderness?
Ol' Joe Hooker, won't you come out of The Wilderness?
Bully boys, hey! Bully boys, ho!

Confederate leader J.E.B. Stuart loved music, and had a booming baritone singing voice that he delighted in exercising, even on his deathbed (though his voice failed him as he struggled to sing his favorite hymn). Not only was he a good singer, but he had a deep appreciation for those with musical talent. Burke Davis, in his work The Last Cavalier, wrote

"J.E.B. Stuart coveted a banjo player in the Appomattox County regiment of Colonel T. Munford, one Sam Sweeney, a dark, handsome man in his early thirties who made music such as Stuart had never heard. Sam Sweeney was the younger brother of Joe Sweeney, said to be the 'inventor' of the banjo, celebrated as one of the finest blackface minstrels, and who had once played for Queen Victoria.

Joe had died the year before, and now Sam carried on his minstrelcy. Stuart abducted him."

Colonel Munford noted his complaint that:

"Stuart's feet would shuffle at Sweeney's presence, or naming. He issued an order for him to report at his quarters and 'detained' him. It was a right he enjoyed, but not very pleasing to me or my regiment."

Where Stuart could be found, there, too, would music be found. The powerful, fine baritone voice of Stuart would be accompanied by Sweeney on the banjo, Mulatto Bob playing bones, fiddlers, colored singers and dancers, the ventriloquist, and any others who came to Stuart's attention.

Sweeney rode behind Stuart on the outpost day and night. Stuart often sang while Sweeney played the banjo as instrumental accompaniment. The loss of Sweeney in death due to smallpox affected Stuart greatly.

JINE THE CAVALRY recounts some of General Stuart's famous military escapades, including his incursion into Pennsylvania, his "ride around McClellan" of the summer of 1862, and his taking command during the Battle of Chancellorsville in May 1863 in the wake of the woundings of both General Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson and General A.P. Hill. JINE THE CAVALRY was numbered among Stuart's musical favorites. Other songs much loved by Stuart included LORENA and HER BRIGHT SMILE HAUNTS ME STILL.

 

JINGLE BELLS
Words & Music By James Pierpont
1859

Dashing thro' the snow in a one-horse open sleigh,
O'er the hills we go, laughing all the way;
Bells on bobtail ring, making spirits bright,
Oh, what sport to ride and sing a sleighing song to night.

Chorus
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way;
Oh! what joy it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way;
Oh! what joy it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh.

A day or two ago, I thought I'd take a ride,
And soon Miss Fannie Bright was seated by my side.
The horse was lean and lank; misfortune seemed his lot,
He got into a drifted bank, and we, we got upsot.

A day or two ago - the story I must tell -
I went out on the snow and on my back I fell;
A gent was riding by in a one-horse open sleigh,
He laughed as there I sprawling lie, but quickly drove away.

Now the ground is white, go it while you're young,
Take the girls tonight and sing this sleighing song;
Just get a bobtailed bay - two forty as his speed -
Hitch him to an open sleigh and 'CRACK', you'll take the lead.



JOE BOWERS
To the tune of THE REBEL SOLDIER

My name it is Joe Bowers, I have a brother, Ike;
I'm just from ole Missouri an' all th' way from Pike.

Perhaps you wonder how I left there an' how I came to roam,
To leave my kind ole Mother so far away from home

I used to court a little girl, her name is Sally Black;
I asked her to marry me, she said, "It was a whack."

She said to me, "Joe Bowers, before we're hitched for life,
You'd better have a little home to take your darling wife."

I said to her, "Little Sally, O Sally, for your sake
I'll go to California an' I'll try to raise a stake."

She says to me, "Joe Bowers, you are a man to win."
She give me a kiss to seal th' barg'in - she threw a dozen in.

When I got to San Francisco, I hadn't nary a red;
I had such wolfish feelings, I wished myself most dead.

But the thoughts of dear, sweet Sally soon made those feelings get,
An' whispered hope to Bowers - I wish I had them yet.

I worked both late an' early through frost, rain an' snow.
I'm working for my Sally, but it's all the same to Joe.

At length I received a letter, an' it's from my brother, Ike;
It's all the way from Missouri an' all the way from Pike.

It brought to me the awfullest news that I ever did hear;
Said, Sally had married a butcher an' th butcher had red hair.

I looked upon th' letter an' it's enough to make me swear;
Said, Sally had a baby, the baby had red hair.

But whether it was a girl or boy, the letter never said;
The only thing I 'member: the baby's hair was red.


JOHN BARLEYCORN

John Barleycorn is a hero bold
As any in the land;
For ages good his fame has stood,
And will for ages stand.
The whole wide world respects him,
No matter friend or foe;
Whate'er they be that makes too free,
He's sure to lay them low.

Chorus
Hey, John Barleycorn,
Ho, John Barleycorn,
Old and young thy praise have sung -
John Barleycorn.

Now see him in his pride of growth -
His robes are rich and green;
His head is spear'd with prickly beard,
Fit knight to save a queen;
And when the reaping time comes round,
And John is stricken down,
He yields his blood for England's good
And Englishmen's renown.

The lord in courtly castle, and
The squire in stately hall,
The great of name, of birth and fame,
On John for succour call;
He bids the trembled heart rejoice -
Gives warmth to nature's cold -
Makes weak men strong, and old one's young,
And all men brave and bold.

Then shout for great John Barleycorn,
Nor heed the luscious vine,
I've not the mind much charm to find,
In potent draughts of wine.
Give me my native nut-brown ale,
All other drinks I scorn,
True English cheer is English beer -
Our own John Barleycorn.


JOHN BELL OF TENNESSEE

To the tune of AULD LANG SYNE

There is a man of noble heart, in Tennessee does dwell
Who scorns the Traitor Lincoln's raid; his name is John Bell.

Chorus
For old John Bell so dear, for old John Bell,
We'll give three loud and hearty cheers for old John Bell.

Though called a rebel by his foes, his heart in truth doth dwell;
He scorns the Tory Lincoln's raid; his name is John Bell.

He hears the Northern vandals voice shout over hill and dell;
He laughs at Nigger Lincoln's raid; his name is John Bell.

Let them advance in Tennessee, his guns are sure to tell;
He dares the tread of Yankee sneaks; his name is John Bell.

Let Northern fanatics beware of famous old John Bell,
For if they come in Tennessee, he'll surely ring their knell.


JOHN BROWN'S SONG

John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave.
His soul's marching on!

Chorus
Glory Hally, Hallelujah! Glory Hally, Hallelujah!
Glory Hally, Hallelujah! His soul's marching on.

He's gone to be a soldier in the army of our Lord,
He's gone to be a soldier in the army of our Lord,
He's gone to be a soldier in the army of our Lord,
His soul's marching on.

John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back.
His soul's marching on!

His pet lambs will meet him on the way,
His pet lambs will meet him on the way,

His pet lambs will meet him on the way,
They go marching on.

They will hang Jeff Davis to a tree!
They will hang Jeff Davis to a tree!
They will hang Jeff Davis to a tree!
As they march along!

Now, three rousing cheers for the Union!
Now, three rousing cheers for the Union!
Now, three rousing cheers for the Union!
As we are marching on!

Final Chorus
Glory Hally, Hallelujah! Glory Hally, Hallelujah!
Glory Hally, Hallelujah!
Hip, hip, hip, hip, Hurrah!

J. WRIGLEY. Publisher, of Songs, Ballad's, and Toy Books, Conversation, Age, and Small Playing Cards, Alphabet Wood Blocks, Valentines, Motto Vorses, and Cut Paper &c. No. 27 Chatham Street (OPPOSITE CITY HALL PARK) NEW YORK


JOHN HARROLSON

Thomas Wetmore

John Harrolson! John Harrolson! You are a wretched creature.
You've added to this bloody war a new and awful feature.
You'd have us think while every man is bound to be a fighter,
That ladies, bless the dears, should save their pee for nitre.

John Harrolson! John Harrolson! Where did you get the notion
To send your barrel 'round the town to gather up the lotion?
We thought the girls had work enough making shirts and kissing,
But you have put the pretty dears to patriotic pissing.

John Harrolson! John Harrolson! Do pray invent a neater,
And somewhat more modest mode of making your salt petre;
But 'tis an awful idea, John: gunpowdery and cranky,
That when a lady lifts her skirts, she's killing off a Yankee!

The Confederate Mining and Nitre Bureau, whose officials included Captain Jonathan Harrolson, sent tank cars around the Southern cities collecting chamber lye (urine). Ammonium nitrate was then extracted for the use in gun powder. This unusual event was immortalized in an amusing poem by Thomas Wetmore. There were different versions on both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line; however, the Yankee version is far more crude.


JOHN HUNT MORGAN SONG
See HOW ARE YOU, TELEGRAPH?


JOHNNY, FILL UP THE BOWL!

Abram Lincoln? what yer 'bout? Hurrah! hurrah!
Stop this war, for it's played out - Hurrah! hurrah!
Abram Lincoln, what yer 'bout? Stop this war: it's all played out!
We'll all drink stone blind - Johnny, fill up the bowl.

We're getting anxious, all of us; Hurrah! hurrah!
We're getting anxious, all of us; Hurrah, hurrah!
We're getting anxious, all of us, for you to stop this Southern muss;
Then we'll all drink stone blind - Johnny, fill up the bowl.

The Conscription Act it now is passed; Hurrah, hurrah!
The Conscription Act it now is passed; Hurrah, hurrah!
The Conscription Act it now is passed, and we'll be drafted all at last;
Then we'll all drink stone blind - Johnny, fill up the bowl!

Gold, it now is coming down; Hurrah, hurrah!
Gold, it now is coming down - Hurrah, hurrah!
Gold, it now is coming down, for they have run it in the ground:
So, we'll all drink stone blind - Johnny, fill up the bowl.

Auner's Printing Office, N. E. Cor. Eleventh & Market, Philada.


JOHNNY HAS GONE FOR A SOLDIER

See JOHNNY'S GONE FOR A SOLDIER


Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye

While going the road to sweet Athy Hurroo! Hurroo!
While going the road to sweet Athy Hurroo!
While going he road to sweet Athy with a stick in my hand & a drop in my eye,
A doleful damsel I heard cry, "Johnny! I hardly knew ye!"

Chorus
With your drums & guns & guns & drums the enemy nearly slew ye,
O darling dear you look so queer faith Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

Where are your eyes that looked so mild hurroo!
Where are your eyes that looked so mild hurroo!
Where are your eyes that looked so mild when my heart you did begile,
Why d? you skedaddle from me & the child why Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

O where's your arms too alack huroo
O where's your arms too alack huroo
O where's your arms too alack I often felt them on my back
From pain I roared at every crack - O Johnny, it's then I knew ye.

Where are the legs with which you run hurroo!
Where are the legs with which you run hurroo!
Where are the legs with which you run when you went to carry a gun,
Indeed your dancing days are done faith Johnny! I hardly knew ye.

It grieved my heart to see you sail hurroo!
It grieve my heart to see you sail hurroo!
It grieved my heart to see you sail if my heart you felt you would bew il,
I shook my head like the tail of a whale - Johnny, I hardly knew ye,

I'l tell you the truth without controul huroo!
I'l tell you the truth without controul hurroo,
I'l tell you the truth without controul your atitude lookt very dr?ll,
Young as long & thiu as a tellag apapole O Jonney! I hardly knew ye.

O where's the whisker you aught to have there hurroo
O where's the whisker you aught to have these hurroo
O where's the whisker you aught to have there I'm sure your jaws looks very bare,
You only were fit to throwin the rere, O Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

But still I'm glad to see you home hurroo,
But still I'm glad to see you home hurroo,
But still I'm glad to see you home from the Island of Siloam
Your low in flesh & high in bone faith Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

 


JOHNNY IS MY DARLING
Words By Father Reed

Chorus
Johnny is my darling, my darling, my darling;
Johnny is my darling, the Union Volunteer.

'Twas on a sunny morning, the brightest of the year,
When Johnny came to my town, a Union Volunteer.

As he came marching up the street, the bands played loud and clear;
And everyone came out to greet the Union Volunteer.

With proudly waving starry flags and hearts that knew no fear,
He came to fight for Freedom's rights, a Union Volunteer.

But though he's gone to glory win, and I left lonely here,
He'll soon return to me again as Cupid's Volunteer.


JOHNNY SCHMOKER

Johnny Schmoker, Johnny Schmoker,
Ich kann spielen,
Ich kann spielen, Ich kann spielen,
Ich kann spiel mein kline Drummel,
Rub a dub a dub, dis ist mein Drummel.

Fifie, Pilly willy wink, das ist mein Fifie;
Rub a dub a dub, das ist mein Drummel:
Mein Rub a dub a dub,
Mein Pilly willy wink, das ist mein Fifie.

Triangle, Tick knock knock, das ist Triangle
Pilly willy wink, das ist mein Fifie,
Rub a dub a dub, das ist mein Drummel,
Mein Rub a dub a dub,
Mein Pilly willy wink,
Mein Tick knock knock, das ist Triangle.

Trombone: Bom, bom bom, das ist mein Trombone.
Tic knock knock, das ist Triangle,
Pilly willy wink, das ist mein Fifie,
Rub a dub a dub, das ist mein Drummel;
Mein Rub a dub a dub.
Mein Pilly willy wink,
Mein Tic knock knock,
Mein Bom bom bom, das its mein Trombone.

Cymbal, Zoom zoom zoom, das ist mein Cymbal,
Bom bom bom, das ist deim Trombone,
Tic knock knock, das ist Triangle.
Pilly willy wink, das ist mein Fifie,
Rub a dub a dub, das ist mein Drummel.

Mein Rub a dub a dub,
Mein Pilly willy wink,
Mein Tick knock knock,
Mein Bom bom bom,
Mein Zoom zoom zoom, das ist mein Cymbal

Viol, Fal lal lal, das ist mein Viol,
Zoom zoom zoom, das ist mein Cymbal,
Bom bom bom, das ist mein Trombone,
Tic knock knock, das ist Triangle,
Pilly willy wink, das ist mein Fifie,
Rub a dub a dub, das ist mein Drummel.

Mein Rub a dub a dub,
Mein Pilly willy wink,
Mein Tic knock knock,
Mein Bom bom bom,
Mein Zoom zoom zoom,
Mein Fal lal lal, das ist mein Viol.

Toodle-Sach, Whack whack whack, das ist mein Toodle-Sach.
Fal lal lal, das ist mein Viol,
Zoom zoom zoom, das ist mein Cymbal,
Bom bom bom, das ist mein Trombone,
Tic knock knock, das ist Triangle,
Pilly willy wink, das ist mein Fifie,
Rub a dub a dub, das ist mein Drummel.

Mein Rub a dub a dub,
Mein Pilly willy wink,
Mein Tic knock knock,
Mein Bom bom bom,
Mein Zoom zoom zoom,
Mein Fal lal lal,
Mein Whack whack wheck, das ist mein Toodle-Sach.

H. DE MARSAN, Publisher. 54 Chatham Street, New York.

In JOHNNY SCHMOKER, an old German musician is describing to his friend, Johnny Schmoker, the many musical instruments he can play. He describes each of them to Johnny Schmoker through motions as he sings.

When performed by a chorus, especially a chorus of men, the movements being in exact time, and all together, an effect is produced which has not been equaled by anything of the kind ever produced in this country. Observe: that the motions are made only when the words describing the instruments, are sung, as for example, at: "Rub a dub a dub," the roll of the drum is imitated, beginning (as in the case of all the instruments) with the first, and ending exactly with the last word; at: "Pilly willy wink," the hands are placed as if playing the Fife, and the fingers only move; at: "Tic knock knock," the right hand strikes three times under the left, as if playing the Triangle; at: "Bom bom bom," the hand is moved forward and back, as if playing the Trombone; and so on the last, which is imitated by crooking both arms and striking with them against the sides, as if playing the Bag-pipe. Observe that the singing at some of the instruments is loud, and at others soft; also, that the phrase where each instrument is first mentioned, is repeated, and that the first movement, which is sung when each instrument is introduced, is - to save room - printed but once.


JOHNNY'S GONE FOR A SOLDIER
Words By Septimus Winner
To the tune of SHULE AGRA
1852

Here I sit on Buttermilk Hill; who can blame me, cryin' my fill?
And ev'ry tear would turn a mill; Johnny has gone for a soldier.

I'll trace these gardens o'er and o'er; meditate on each sweet flower,
Thinking of each happy hour - Oh, Johnny has gone for a soldier.

Me, oh my, I love him so; it broke my heart to see him go;
Time alone can ease my woe - Johnny has gone for a soldier.

With fife and drum he marched away; he would not heed what I did say.
He'll not come back for many a day - Johnny has gone for a soldier.

Some say my love is gone to France, there his fortune to advance,
And if I find him, it's but chance - Oh, Johnny has gone for a soldier.

Oh my baby, oh my love, gone the rainbow, gone the dove;
Your father was my one, true love; Johnny has gone for a soldier.

I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel, likewise I'll sell my spinning wheel
And buy my love a sword of steel - Johnny has gone for a soldier.

I'll dye my dress, I'll dye it red, and in the streets I'll beg my bread,
For the lad that I love from me has fled - Oh, Johnny has gone for a soldier.

I'll dye my petticoats crimson red as through the world I beg my bread;
I'll find my love alive or dead - Johnny has gone for a soldier.

Printed in THE SEEDS OF LOVE, a broadside by Stephen Sedley; Kendrew of York, 1852


JORDAN IS A HARD ROAD TO TRABEL

Daniel Decatur Emmett
1853

I am guine to sing a song and I'll make it as I go -
The words you will likely now depend on -
And if it don't you suit, why, you can at me hoot,
And I'll travel to de odder side of Jordan.

Chorus
Den I'll pull off my coat and I'll roll up my sleeves,
Hard road to trabbel ober Jordan;
I'll pull off my coat and roll up my sleeves -
Jordan is a hard road to trabbel, I believe.

Genr'l's Scott and Pierce dey both hab a race,
For de White House - you ought have seen dem runnin';
Massa Pierce come out ahead, and Scott give up de chase,
And he fotched up on de odder side of Jordan.

De Governor of Cuba is kicking up a dust,
About the Crescent City, Purser Smith, and so on;
It will take General Scott for to quiet dat muss,
And run dem to de odder side of Jordan.

President Fillmore is acting mighty strange,
(But with George Law, he'd better not keep foblin');
By de 4th of next March, I guess he'll take a range
In de vicinity of de odder side of Jordan.

George Law is spunky, and I glory in his grit,
'Kase he got de guns and steamer's for to fight on;
To de blood thirsty Spaniards, he won't knock under a skiff
'Till he leaves dem on de odder side of Jordan.

Spirits of fifty murdered 'Mericans cry
To de whole Yankee nation to go on,
Straight to Havanna their blood to avenge,
And blow Moro Castle to de odder side of Jordan.

Abraham and Isaac sat down to play the cards,
Abraham he hold the cooler;
The Ace he could not come, and the Jack he had to run -
'Twas the biggest hand the other side of Jordan.

Chorus
So I pulled off my coat, and rolled up my sleeve,
Jordan's a hard road to trabble,
So I pulled off my coat, and rolled up my sleeve,
Jordan's a hard road to trabble, I believe.

Moses in the bullrushes asleep, wide awake,
Playin' 'possum in a two-bushel basket;
With a wreath of candles strung 'round his head,
To light him to the other side of Jordan.

There was snakes in Ireland many years ago;
Saint Patrick saw the reptiles a-crawlin'.
He up with his shelalah and hit them in the head,
And drove them to the other side of Jordan.

Collins and Cunard are both very fine men,
The Arabia Johnny Bull, he bets on;
But the very next trip that the Atlantic makes,
She will tow her to the other side of Jordan.

Oh, the Chatham Street Railroad has made a mighty talk,
It's a subject you all no doubt have heard on;
They make you pay five cents, and stand up all the way,
Until they land you on the other side of Jordan.

Forest in Metamora takes all the heavy parts -
Oh, you ought to hear the b'hoys applaud him -
"You've sent for me and I've come," it sounded like a gun;
They heard it on the other side of Jordan.

No. 4
Of all the banjo songs that have been sung of late,
There is none that is now so often called on
As the one I sing myself, and apply it to the times:
It's called "On the Other Side of Jordan."

Chorus
So I pulled off my coat, and rolled up my sleeve,
Jordan's a hard road to trabble,
So I pulled off my coat and rolled up my sleeve,
Jordan's a hard road to trabble I believe.

Around the Crystal Palace there are a great many shows,
Where all the country green horns are drawn in -
There'r snakes and alligators, mammoth mules and big 'taters
That were raised upon the other side of Jordan.

The Sovereign of the Seas, she went to Liverpool
In less than fourteen days, too, according;
Johnny Bull, he wiped his eyes, and looked with surprise
At this clipper from the Yankee side of Jordan.

The ladies of England have sent a big address
About slavery, and all its horrors, according;
They had better look at home, to their own white slaves
That are starving on the English side of Jordan.

They have got a bearded lady down at Barnum's show,
And lots of pictures outside, according;
She's going to take her eyelashes for a pair of mustaches
For to trabble on the other side of Jordan.

The Duchess of Southerland, she keeps the Stafford House,
The place where the "Black Swan" is boarding;
At a musical party, they asked for a song,
And she gave them - "On The Other Side Of Jordan."

Our great father, Washington, he was a mighty man,
And all the Yankees do their fighting according;
They will raise the flag of freedom wherever they can,
Till they plant it on the other side of Jordan.

No. 5.
Oh, I lookee to de East, an' I lookee to de West,
An' I seed a mighty chariot a comin'
Wid forty gray hosses a crackin' on the lead,
For to take us on the odder side o' Jordan.

Chorus
So I pulled off my coat, an' rolled up my sleeve,
Jordan am a hard road to travel;
So I pulled off my coat, an' rolled up my sleeve,
Dar's mercy on de odder side o' Jordan, I believe.

Den I lookee to de Norf, an' I lookee to de Souf,
An' spied a mighty purty flower garden;
An' old Fader Miller a-blowin' the clarionet,
To invite us on the odder side o' Jordan.

Joe Smith and Fader Miller, dey got into a fight,
An' dar was no near to part 'em;
Farder Miller kicked Smith, an' he tumbled on his nose,
An' he skeeted to the odder side o' Jordan.

Uncle Tom's Cabin never was written by mortal hands,
It never was, and there's no use of talking;
It was written long ago by Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe,
When she lived on the other side of Jordan.

Poor Old Uncle Tom had a berry hard time,
Tho' he asked Mrs. Beecher's toe's pardon;
But she never will diskiver what a wicked thing she did,
Till she tries to reach de odder side o' Jordan.

Uncle Sam's Black Slave hab got a mighty hard time,
But de "White Slave ob England" a more hard one;
An' I radder do believe Uncle Sam comes out de best,
An' he needn't fear de odder side o' Jordan.

Den here's to Columbia, de country of de free,
Tho' I ax all de odder nations pardon;
Let dem take my advice, an' for freedom let dem fight,
Or dey'll never see de odder side o' Jordan.

No. 6.
I am going to sing a song, and funny it will be,
And I'll apply it to the old tune according;
For I'll double up my fist and fight them as I go,
'Till I get on the other side of Jordan.

Chorus
So I pulled off my coat, and rolled up my sleeve,
Jordan's a hard road to trabble,
So I pulled off my coat, and rolled up my sleeve,
Jordan's a hard road to trabble, I believe.

The Irishmen think that they can rule
Over the American people according;
But the Americans will show them what they will do,
On this and the other side of Jordan.

The Americans go in for freedom and free speech,
They went over to Brooklyn according;
The "Micks" provoked a fight, got whipped, and took their flight,
Hurrah! for the Yankee side of Jordan.

The Wide Awake white hats are now all the go,
The Know-Nothings wear them according;
Only say that you're a "Mick," and you'll get a kick,
Which will send you to the other side of Jordan.

Let all the world know, that wherever we may go,
Our Government will be ready in affording
Protection alike to all, both the great and the small,
That hail from the Yankee side of Jordan.

Final Chorus
Roll down your sleeves and put on your coat,
Jordan is an easy road to trabble;
Roll down your sleeves and put on your coat,
Jordan is an easy road to trabbel, I believe.


JOSEPHUS ORANGE BLOSSOM

Chorus
Oh, my name is Josephus Orange Blossom;
I's the gayest colored gen'l'man in all de land;
Wid de pretty girls I always play de 'possum;
I's a red-hot, hunky-dory contraband.

When I first fell in love wid Jane Melissa,
I tried my best to win from her a smile;
I caught her 'round de waist and tried to kiss her -
She says, "Go away, I doesn't like your style."
Red hot? Guess not!
I's de gayest colored gen'l'man in all de land;
And my name is Josephus Orange Blossom;
I's a red-hot, hunky-dory contraband.

Well, I thought that Jane Melissa was a beauty,
So I popped the question to her Sunday night;
She says, "I think you are the one who suits me;
Your company always gives me delight."
I told her that I thought she was perfection -
Upon her charming face my eyes could feast,
And if there was no serious objection,
Next Sunday night, we'd patronize a priest.
Wasn't she sweet? Hard to beat;
The brightest creature in all the land;
And I know she loves Josephus Orange Blossom -
I's a red-hot, hunky-dory contraband.

One evening, sweet thoughts were o'er me creeping;
I thought, "Upon my sweetheart, make a call;"
And through the window I was slyly peeping -
I saw something there that made my heart appalled.
Her teeth and one eye were on the table,
Her pretty curls were hanging on the peg;
I laughed out loud as hard as I was able
To see her taking off her wooden leg.
Oh, no! Not for Joe!
I can't take Melissa for my wife!
So, out of town I soon got out so hasty;
I's never so afraid in all my life!

Oh, my name is Josephus Orange Blossom;
I's the gayest colored gen'l'man in all de land;
Wid de pretty girls I always play de 'possum;
I's a red-hot, hunky-dory contraband.

Popularized by Christy's Minstrels during the war.


JOY TO THE WORLD
Words By Isaac Watts
Music By Lowell Mason
1836

Joy to the world: the Lord is come; let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare him room, and heaven and nature sing.
And heaven and nature sing, and heaven - and heaven - and nature sing.

Joy to the earth, the Saviour reigns; let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains repeat the sounding joy.
Repeat the sounding joy, repeat - repeat the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow, nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make his blessings flow far as the curse is found.
Far as the curse is found, far as - far as the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace, and makes the nations prove
The glories of his righteousness, and wonders of his love.
And wonders of his love, and wonders - and wonders of his love.


Joys That We Tasted

F.D. Benteen
1843

Joys that we've tasted may sometimes return,
But the torch when once wasted ah! How can it burn?
Splendours now clouded, say when will ye shine?
Broke is the goblet and wasted the wine!

Many the changes since last we met,
Blushes have brighten'd, and tears have been wept;
Friends have been scatter'd like roses in bloom,
Some at the bridal, some at the tomb.

I've stood in yon chamber, but one was not there,
Hush'd was the lute string and vacant the chair;
Lips of love's melody, where are ye borne,
Never to smile again, never to mourn!


JUANITA

Soft o'er the fountain lingering falls the southern moon;
Far o'er the mountain breaks the day too soon!
In thy dark eyes' splendor where the warm light loves to dwell,
Weary looks, yet tender, speak their fond farewell.
Nita! Juanita! Ask thy soul if we should part.
Nita! Juanita! Lean thou on my heart.

When in thy dreaming, moons like these shall shine again,
And daylight beaming prove thy dreams are vain,
Wilt thou not, relenting, for thine absent lover sigh?
In thy heart consenting to a prayer gone by?
Nita! Juanita! Let me linger by thy side.
Nita! Juanita! Be my own fair bride.

JUANITA is a Spanish folk song that was a favorite of Mexico during the Mexican War. It undoubtedly captivated the American soldiers who heard the song.


JUST AS I AM
Words By Charlotte Elliot
Music By William Batchelder Bradbury
1849

Just as I am, without one plea but that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidd'st me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, and waiting not to rid my soul of one dark blot,
To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, though tossed about with many a conflict, many a doubt;
With fears within and wars without, O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind, sight, riches, healing of the mind;
Yea, all I need, in Thee to find, O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, - Thou wilt receive, wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve,
Because Thy promise I believe, O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am - Thy love unknown has broken every barrier down;
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone, O Lamb of God! I come!

Just as I am, of that free love the breadth, length, depth, and height to prove;
Here for a season, then above, O Lamb of God, I come!


JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE, MOTHER

George F. Root
1863

Just before the battle, Mother, I am thinking most of you;
While upon the field we're watching, with the enemy in view.
Comrades brave around me lying, filled with thoughts of home and God;
For well they know upon the morrow, some will sleep beneath the sod.

Chorus
Farewell, Mother, you may never press me to your heart again;
But, oh, you'll not forget me, Mother, if I'm numbered with the slain.

Oh, I long to see you, Mother, and the loving ones at home;
But I'll never leave our banner, 'till in honor I can come.
Tell the enemy around you that their cruel words, we know,
In every battle kill our soldiers by the help they give the foe.

Hark! I hear the bugles sounding - 'tis the signal for the fight;
Now may God protect us, Mother, as He ever does the right.
Hear the BATTLE CRY OF FREEDOM, how it swells upon the air;
Oh yes, we'll rally round the standard or we'll perish nobly there.

One of the most popular songs of the War, it lived on in overseas conflicts as well -- the British believed that the song was about the Crimean War and had been authored by an Englishman. The "traitors" mentioned in the second verse of the song were Northern Copperheads, who wished to see the War end through a negotiated peace and recognition of the Confederacy.


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