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LAKES OF PONTCHARTRAIN

'Twas on one bright March morning I bid New Orleans adieu
And I took the road to Jackson town, my fortune to renew;
I cursed all foreign money - no credit could I gain -
Which filled my heart with longing for the lakes of Pontchartrain.

I stepped on board a railroad car beneath the morning sun;
I rode the rails 'til evening, and I laid me down again;
All strangers there - no friends to me - 'til a dark girl towards me came,
And I fell in love with a Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain.

I said, "My pretty Creole girl, my money here's no good;
If not for the alligators, I'd sleep out in the wood."
"You're welcome here, kind stranger, though our house is very plain.
But we'd never turn a stranger out from the lakes of Pontchartrain."

She took me into her mammy's house, and treated me quite well;
The hair upon her shoulder in jet black ringlets fell.
To try and paint her beauty, I'm sure 'twould be in vain
So handsome was my Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain.

I asked her if she'd marry me; she said it could never be
For she had got another, and he was far at sea.
She said that she would wait for him, and true she would remain
'Til he returned for his Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain.

So fare thee well my Creole girl, I never will see you no more,
But I'll ne'er forget your kindness in the cottage by the shore.
And at each social gathering, a flowing glass I'll raise,
And I'll drink a health to my Creole girl and the lakes of Pontchartrain.

Many mistake this song for an Irish melody, but it is, in fact, an old Creole song. The tune, in all likelihood, was spread by British and French soldiers who fought in Louisiana and Canada during the War of 1812.


The Land Of Beulah
Words By William Haskell
Music By William B. Bradbury
1860

My latest sun is sinking fast,
My race is nearly run.
My strongest trials now are past,
My triumph is begun.

Chorus
Oh, come, angel band,
Come and around me stand.
Oh, bear me away on your snowy wings
To my immortal home;
Oh, bear me away on your snowy wings
To my immortal home.


I know I'm near the holy ranks
Of friends and kindred dear.
I brush the dew on Jordan's banks,
The crossing must be near.

I've almost gained my heavenly home,
My spirit loudly sings.
The holy ones, behold they come -
I hear the noise of wings.

Oh, bear my longing heart to Him
Who bled and died for me;
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin,
And gives me victory.


larned nigger
From CHRISTY'S NIGGA SONGSTER
To the tune of LEARNED MAN

1850

Oh! I'm de black Professor Chalk,
Dat's just arrived from great New York,
To you Poor Whites I'm going to talk
To 'lighten you if I can;
I've proved de learned Doctors fools
And pushed Professors from der stools,
In fact, I've puzzled all de schools
Since de day I first began.

I'll beat be chalks, I'll calculate
Your knowledge, slick as grease.
Old Solomon, was he alive,
Would have to hold his peace.
Dere's not a thing was ever larned
But over in my brain I've tarned,
And if I don't know it all, I'm darned,
De Larned Nigger Man.


Just look, Innography de's first,
Dat's what dey rise to lay de dust;
De Study of Globes, is living on trust
And getting all you can.
Astronomy will tell you how
To play upon de old banjo,
And Music is de way to go
Upon de safest plan.

Arithmetic's de way to paint,
And Drawing to study de moon;
Chronology is what dey larns
To make de silver spoon;
And Navigation's de way to make
De mint-julep, and de old hoe cake,
Ain't I de regular wide awake
Old Larned Nigger Man?

Dere's Phisnomy and Gology,
De science ob Tantology,
And Poetry's Astrology,
Deny it if you can,
Philos'phy's de way to find
De knowledge ob de waves an' wind;
Philan'phy is when you'b divined
A new railway to plan.

Electricity, I calculate
Beats all creation hollow;
Repudiation is de way
To earn the honest dollar.
Phrenology is how to fly,
And Hydraulics is berry dry,
And Steam's de way to sing. Ain't I
De Larned Nigger?

Next on Ancient History I'll touch,
Though you wouldn't think I know'd so much,
But yet I'b got it in my clutch
Since first de world began.
Now old Shakemspeare was in de ark,
And Vellin'ton and Mungo Park,
And Prince Albert a gen'alman dark
To save himself he ran.

Den Animal and Bonaparte
Dey crossed de Alps togedder,
And got friz up, because it was
Such berry dam cold wedder.
Lord Byron was a general, sent
To fight, and wid Alexander went;
And Julius Caesar was a gent,
And a fiery Irishman.

Dere's Moses hunted de wild raccoon,
And Noah dat vent up in a balon;
And Adam who played de lively tune
Upon de old banjo.
Sir Robert Peel he was de Pope,
And Charles de First invented soap;
Cromwell, de man dat made de rope,
To catch de buffalo.

And George de Third he was a black
Dat lived in New Orleans;
And Washington kept a donkey-cart,
And went about wid greens.
Saint Peter was de Indian chief;
Queen Anne found out de ' bacca leaf;
Tuffy de Welchman, dat stole de beef,
Was cousin to old Joe.


LARRY MAHER'S BIG FIVE-GALLON JAR
To the tune of IRISH JAUNTING CAR

Come, all you jolly sailors bold, that lives both near and far;
I'll sing you a short ditty concerning Larry Maher.
He keeps a slap-up boarding house, and sells rot-gut to the tars,
And the pride of New-York City is - his big five-gallon jar.

Chorus
So, if you want chain lightning, step into Larry Maher's,
And he will serve you with abundance from - his big five-gallon jar.

When first I came to New-York, I came here on a spree,
And hearing tell of Larry Maher, I went the sights to see;
Some drunken shells in the corner lay, more swilling at the bar,
And Larry was supplying them from - his big five-gallon jar.

Now, one glass of Larry's beverage will make your heart to ache,
And, when you get keeled over, your cash he'll surely take;
But when you wake next morning, you'll be far outside the bar,
Removed away to Liverpool by - gallus Larry Maher.

You may talk about Jamaica rum, and Monongahela too,
Or all the poteen whiskey made from Cork to Killaloo;
For it's a mere cypher, and far below the par,
For it can't come up to Larry and - his big-five-gallon jar.

Now, this jar is inexhaustible; for, when it is all done,
Larry can replenish it in the snapping of a gun;
Some camphene and laudanum, alum-water and coal-tar,
Composes this good beverage of - gallus Larry Maher.

I took one glass of Larry's rot-gut, and my heart was up for fight
When an M. P. run at me and knocked me higher than a kite;
He slipped the darbies on me, and the Tombs not being far -
So, I bid farewell to Larry and - his big five-gallon jar.

H. DE MARSAN. DEALER IN SONGS, TOY-BOOKS &C. No 54 CHATHAM. ST N.Y.


the last fierce charge
Or,
two soldiers

It was just before the last fierce charge,
Two soldiers drew their rein,
With a parting word and a touch of the hand,
They never might meet again.

One had light blue eyes and curly hair,
Nineteen but a month ago -
There was red on his cheek and down on his chin;
He's only a boy you know.

The other was tall, dark, stern, and proud,
His fate in this world seem'd dim;
But he only trusted the more to those
Who were all in this world to him.

They had been together in many a fight,
And rode for many a mile;
But never till now they had met the foe
With a calm and hopeful smile.

But now they gazed in each other's eyes
With an awful ghastly loom;
The tall dark one was the first to speak
Saying, "Charlie, mine hour is come.

"We'll both ride up yon hill together,
But you must ride back alone.
O promise a little trouble to take
For me when I'm gone.

"I have a fair face on my breast,
I'll wear it throughout the fight;
With light blue eyes, and curly hair
That shines like the morning light.

"Like the morning light she is to me,
With her calm and her hopeful smile;
Oh, little care I for the frowns of fate,
For she promised to be my wife.

"I mind the day she said 'Goodbye',
With a smile on her fair face;
Oh, tell her tenderly where I fell,
And where is my resting place."

Tears dimm'd the blue eyes of the boy
His voice was low with pain.
"I'll do your bidding, comrade mine,
Should I ride back again.

"But if you ride back and I am slain,
You'll do as much for me;
I have a mother beloved by all,
Write to her tenderly.

"She was a mother beloved by all,
Who had buried both husband and son;
And I the last for her country's cause
She cheer'd and sent me on.

"And now she prays like a waiting saint,
Her fair face wet with woe;
Oh, when she hears that I am slain,
Her heart will break I know."

But now the trumpet sounds the charge,
In an instant hand join'd hand;
With a parting word and away they go,
A brave devoted band.

There was none to tell that fair-hair'd girl
The words her true love said,
And none to tell that waiting mother
The news that her boy was dead.

For among the number of the slain
Was the boy with the curly hair;
The tall dark man who rode by his side
Lay dead beside him there.


The Last Man Of Beaufort
Words By Anonymous
Music By James G. Maeder
To the tune of THE LAST ROSE O SUMMER
1864

'Tis the last man at Beaufort, left sitting all alone;
All his valiant companions had "vamoosed" and gone;
No secesh of his kindred to comfort is nigh,
And his liquor's expended, the bottle is dry!


"We'll not leave thee, thou lone one, or harshly condemn -
Since your friends have all 'mizzled,' you can't sleep with them;
And it's no joking matter to sleep with the dead;
So we'll take you back with us - Jim, lift up his head!"


He muttered some words as they bore him away,
And the breeze thus repeated the words he did say:
"When the liquor's all out and your friends they have flown,
Oh! who would inhabit this Beaufort alone?"


On the day the town of Beaufort, SC, was entered by Federal troops, all the inhabitants were found to have fled with the exception of one white man.  Too intoxicated by far to join his fellow citizens in their flight from the town, he had been left behind.


the last rose of summer
Words By Thomas Moore
Music By James G. Maeder
1813

'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming all alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flow'r of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh!

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from Love's shining circle
The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie wither'd,
And fond ones are flown -
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?

Published in Moore's Irish Melodies, 1858

A popular air by Thomas Moore, in the antebellum period immediately before the war, The Last Rose Of Summer would become a signature piece for opera singer Adelina Patti, who sang it for her encore during her tour of the United States.  



LATHER AND SHAVE

It was in this city, not far from this spot,
Where a barber, he opened a snug little shop;
He was silent and sad, but his smile was so sweet
That he pulled every body right out of the street.

Chorus
With his lather and shave 'em, lather and shave 'em,
Lather and shave 'em, frizzle 'em bum.

One horrid bad custom he thought he would step:
That no one for credit, should come to his shop;
So he got him a razor full of notches and rust
To shave the poor devils who came there for trust.

One day a poor Irishman passed by that way
Whose beard had been growing for many a day;
He looked at the barber, and he put down his hod:
"Will you trust me a shave for the pure love o' God?"

"Walk in," says the barber, "sit down in that chair;
I'll soon mow your beard off right down to a hair."
So his lather he spread over Paddy's big chin,
And with his trust razor to shave did begin.

"Och, murther!" says Paddy, "now what are you doin'?
Leave off wid yer tricks, or my jaws you will ruin.
Faith, now how would you like to be shaved wid a saw?
Be the powers, you
'll pull every tooth out o' me jaw!"

"Sit still," says the barber, "and don't make a din;
With your moving your jaws, I
'll be cutting your chin."
"
No cut but sawed - Och, that razor you've got,
Sure it wouldn
't cut butter if it wasn't made hot!"

"Now lave off yer tricks, and don't shave any more,"
And Paddy, he bolted straight out of the door,
Crying,
"Ye may lather and shave all yer friends till yer sick,
But, be Jabers, I
'd rather be shaved wid a brick!"

Not long after that, Pat was passing the door
When a jackass, he set up a terrible roar;
"Och, murther," says Paddy, "jist list to yon knave -
He's given some poor divil a 'love o' God shave."

 

Lavender's Blue

Lavender's blue, diddle diddle
Lavender's green;
When I am king, diddle diddle
You shall be queen.

Lavender's green, diddle diddle
Lavender's blue;
You must love me, diddle diddle
'Cause I love you.

Down in the vale, diddle diddle
Where flowers grow,
And the birds sing, diddle diddle
All in a row.


A brisk young man, diddle diddle
Met with a maid,
And laid her down, diddle diddle
Under the shade.

There they did play, diddle diddle
And kiss and court.
All the fine day, diddle diddle
Making good sport.

I've heard them say, diddle diddle
Since I came hither,
That you and I, diddle diddle
Might lie together.

Therefore be kind, diddle diddle
While here we lie,
And you will love, diddle diddle
My dog and I.


For you and I, diddle diddle
Now all are one,
And we will lie, diddle diddle
No more alone.

Lavender's blue, diddle diddle
Lavender's green,
Let me be king, diddle diddle
You be the queen.

Lavender's green, diddle diddle
Lavender's blue,
You must love me, diddle diddle
'Cause I love you.



THE LEG I LEFT BEHIND ME

I am stumpless quite since, from the shot of Cerro Gordo peggin',
I left behind, to pay Gen'ral Scott, my grub, and gave my leg in.
I dare not turn to view the place lest Yankee foes should find me,
And mocking, shake before my face the leg I left behind me.

At Buena Vista I was sure that Yankee troops must surrender,
And bade my men hurrah, for you're all going on a bender.
That all my hopes and plans were dashed, my scattered troops remind me,
But though I there got soundly thrashed, I left no leg behind me.

Should Gen'ral Taylor of my track get scent, or Gen'ral Scott beat up my quarters,
I may as well just be content to go across the waters.
But should that my fortune be, fate has not quite resigned me
For in the museum I will see the leg I left behind me.

General Santa Ana, commander of the Mexican forces at the battle of Cerro Gordo, was forced to flee the field and abandoned his own baggage in the process. Having only one leg, Santa Ana used a wooden leg. Most such substitutes for legs were little more that slender sticks, since anything more substantial also weighed enough more to tire the wearer quickly. Santa Ana favored a special light-weight leg made of cork that filled out the stockings and tight pantaloons in fashion at the time. After the battle, American troops found Santa Ana's personal carriage abandoned on the battlefield and discovered in it the general's personal wardrobe, $70,000 of silver to pay his troops, and his favorite leg. Of all of this, it was the leg that caught the fancy of the American troops, and they immortalized it in this song, more or less a parody of "The Girl I Left Behind Me."


Let Me Kiss Him For His Mother
Words & Music By John P. Ordway
1859

Let me kiss him for his mother,
Let me kiss his dear youthful brow;
I will love him for his mother
And seek her blessing now.
Kind friends have soothed his pillow,
Have watched his ev'ry care;
Beneath the weeping willow,
O lay him gently there.

Chorus
Sleep dearest sleep,
I love you as a brother;
Kind friends around you weep -
I've kissed you for your mother.

Let me kiss him for his mother,
What though left a lone stranger here;
She has loved him as none other -
I feel her blessing near.
Though cold that form lies sleeping,
Sweet angels watch around;
Dear friends are near thee weeping -
O lay him gently down.


Let me kiss him for his mother,
Or perchance a sister dear;
If a father or a brother,
I know their blessing's here.
Then kiss him for his mother,
'Twill soothe her after-years;
Farewell dear stranger brother,
Our requiem, our tears.

Written in 1859, the song is said to have been inspired by the sufferings and death of a young man who left his home in New England to make his fortune in New Orleans,  While in New Orleans, he contracted yellow fever and died.  As he lay in his casket, acquaintances and friends passed by his corpse.  Before they were to close the coffin lid on him forever, a woman stepped forward to do one last service for his mother - she volunteered a kiss for his brow, in the stead of his mother.  That thoughtful, kind act would strike a responsive chord among many who would, in a few short years, find themselves in danger of being far away from their loved ones when death came during the war.


Let Us With A Gladsome Mind

Let us with a gladsome mind
Praise the Lord, for He is kind;
For His mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

Let us blaze His name abroad,
For of gods He is the God;
For His mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

He with all commanding might
Filled the new-made world with light;
For His mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.


All things living He doth feed,
His full hand supplies their need;
For His mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

He His chosen race did bless
In the wasteful wilderness;
For His mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

He hath with a piteous eye
Looked upon our misery;
For His mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

He the golden tress'd sun
Caused all day his course to run;
For His mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.


The horned moon to shine by night
'Mid her spangled sisters bright;
For His mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

Let us with a gladsome mind
Praise the Lord, for He is kind;
For His mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.


The Level And The Square
By The Eminent Masonic Poet, Rob Morris
This Song and Burns's "Adieu To His Lodge",
Are The Finest Productions In The Masonic Order.

We meet upon the Level, and we part upon the Square,
What words of precious meaning those words Masonic are,
Come let us contemplate them, they are worthy of our thought,
With the highest and the lowest and the rarest they are fraught.

We meet upon the Level, though from every station come,
The king from out his palace, and the poor man from his home;
For the one must leave his diadem outside the Mason's door,
And the other finds his true respect upon the chequered floor.

We part upon the Square, for the world must have its due,
We mingle with its multitude, a cold unfriendly crew;
But the influence of our gatherings in memory is green,
And we long upon the level to renew the happy scene.

There's a world where all are equal - we are hurrying towards it fast,
We shall meet upon the level there, when the gates of death are passed,

We shall stand before the Orient, and our Master will be there,
To try the blocks we offer by his own unerring Square.

We shall meet upon the level there, but never thence depart,
There's a mansion - 'tis all ready for each trusting faithful heart,
There's a mansion and a welcome, and a multitude is there
Who have met upon the level, and been tried upon the square.

Let us meet upon the level then, while laboring patient here,
Let us meet and let us labor, though the labor seem severe,
Already in the western sky the signs bid us prepare
To gather up our working tools, and part upon the square.

Hands round, ye faithful Masons, form the bright fraternal chain,
We part upon the square below to meet in heaven again,
Oh what words of precious meaning those words Masonic are -
"We meet upon the level, and we part upon the square."

H. DE MARSAN, Publisher, 60 Chatham Street, New-York


The Lexington March
See YANKEY DOODLE


The Liberty Ball
Words By Jesse Hutchinson
To the tune of ROSIN THE BEAU

Come all of you, true friends of the nation,
Attend to humanity's fall,
Come aid in the slaves' liberation,
And roll on the liberty ball.
And roll on the liberty ball, 
And roll on the liberty ball;
Come aid in the slaves' liberation,
And roll on the liberty ball. 

We're foes unto wrong and oppression,
No matter which side of the sea,
And ever intend to oppose them
Till all of God's image are free.
Till all of God's image are free,
Till all of God's image are free;
And ever intend to oppose them
Till all of God's image are free. 

We'll finish the temple of Freedom,
And make it capacious within,
That all who seek shelter may find it,
Whatever the hue of their skin,
Whatever the hue of their skin,
Whatever the hue of their skin;
That all who seek shelter may find it,
Whatever the hue of their skin. 

Success to the old-fashioned doctrine,
That men are created all free;
And down with the power of the despot,
Wherever his strongholds may be.
Wherever his strongholds may be,
Wherever his strongholds may be;
And down with the power of the despot,
Wherever his strongholds may be. 

The liberty hosts are advancing,
For freedom to all, they declare,
The downtrodden millions are sighing,
Come break up our gloom of despair.
Come break up our gloom of despair,
Come break up our gloom of despair'
The downtrodden millions are sighing,
Come break up our gloom of despair. 

Come all of you, true friends of the nation,
Attend to humanity's fall,
Come aid in the slaves' liberation,
And roll on the liberty ball.
And roll on the liberty ball,
And roll on the liberty ball:
Come aid in the slaves' liberation,
And roll on the liberty ball. 


The Liberty Tree
Music From ONCE THE GODS OF THE GREEKS
Lyrics By Thomas Paine
1775

In a chariot of light from the regions of day,
The Goddess of Liberty came;
Ten thousand celestials directed the way,
And thither conducted the dame.
This tall budding branch, from the garden above,
Where millions with millions agree
She bro't in her hand, as a pledge of her love,
The plant she call'd Liberty Tree.

This celestial exotic struck deep in the ground,
Like a native it flourish'd and bore;
The fame of its fruit, drew the nations around,
To seek out its peaceable shore.
Unmindful of names or distinction they came,
For freemen like brothers agree -
With one spirit endow'd, they one friendship pursued.
And their temple was Liberty Tree.


Beneath this fair branch, like the patriarchs of old,
Their bread, in contentment they eat;
Unwearied with trouble, or silver or gold,
Or the cares of the grand and the great.
With timber and tar they old England supplied,
Supported her power on the seas;
Her battles they fought, without having a groat,
For the honour of Liberty Tree.


But hear, o ye swains, ('tis a tale most profane)
How the tyrannical powers -
King, Commons, and Lords, are uniting amain,
To cut down this guardian of ours;
From the east to the west, blow the trumpet to arms,
Thro' the land let the sound of it flee,
Let the far and the near all unite with a cheer,
In defense of our Liberty Tree.


Published in "The American Patriotic Songbook" in Boston in 1813, the song's lyrics were written by Thomas Paine and sung to the English melody ONCE THE GODS OF THE GREEKS.  The combination proved to be terrifically popular in America.  
 

Lie low, lizzie, lie low
Negro Spiritual

Lie low, Lizzie, lie low,
'Cause dey ain't gwine be no meeting here tonight.
Meat selling nine pence a pound,
And coal five dollars a barrel.

So lie low, Lizzie, lie low,
'Cause dey ain't gwine be no meeting here tonight.
Ain't gwine be no meeting here tonight.

Don' you know, don' you know?
Creek's all muddy, and de pond all dry.
Warn't fo' de tadpole, de fish all die.
So lie low, Lizzie, lie low.
'Cause dey ain't gwine be no meeting here tonight.

A pseudo-spiritual of slavery days evidently refers to secret religious meetings in a secluded spot.  The title, LIE LOW, LIZZIE, LIE LOW' implies, as much as the song, a message between the lines.


LINCOLN AND HAMLIN
To the tune of WAIT FOR THE WAGON

Come, all ye friends of freedom, and rally in each State
For Honest Old Abe Lincoln, the people's candidate!
With Lincoln as our champion, we'll battle for the Right
And beat the foes of Freedom in next November's fight.

Chorus
Hurrah! boys, for Lincoln! Hurrah! boys, for Lincoln!
Hurrah! boys, for Lincoln! Hurrah! for Hamlin, too!

The people want an honest man - they're tired of fools and knaves;
They're sick of imbecile "J. B." that in the White House raves.
They want a man for President of firm, unyielding will
That is both honest, brave and true, and OLD ABE fills that bill!

Old Fogies down at Baltimore in solemn conclave met,
The "Union-Saving" farce to play with Bell and Everett.
But the people, next November, will put them all to rout,
And make them long remember that the Fillmore game's "played out."

The Democrats are in a "fix" - no wonder that they shiver;
For they all feel it in their bones that they're going up Salt River!
With their party split asunder, the truth is plain to all:
That though united once they stood, divided, now, they fall!

Oh, Douglas, you can't win this race, you'd better clear the way -
Your humbug doctrines won't go down; at home you'll have to stay.
The Wide-Awakes are on the march o'er all our hills and vales -
Our Giant-Killer's after you with one of those old rails!

And Breckenridge will soon find out the people he can't fool:
They've had enough, these last four years, of Democratic rule.
But LINCOLN is their favorite, and he is bound to win -
When Buck steps out, next Fourth of March, OLD ABE will then step in!

H. DE MARSAN. DEALER in SONGS, TOY-BOOKS &C. No 60 CHATHAM. ST N.Y.


lincoln and liberty
Words By Jesse Hutchinson
To the tune of ROSIN THE BEAU

Hurrah for the choice of the nation!
Our chieftain so brave and so true;
We'll go for the great reformation --
For Lincoln and Liberty, too!

We'll go for the son of Kentucky
The hero of Hoosierdom through;
The pride of the Suckers so lucky
For Lincoln and Liberty, too.

Then up with our banner so glorious,
The star-spangled red, white, and blue,
We'll fight till our cause is victorious,
For Lincoln and Liberty, too.

They'll find what by felling and mauling,
Our railmaker statesman can do;
For the people are everywhere calling
For Lincoln and Liberty, too.


 

LISTEN TO THE MOCKINGBIRD
Words By Septimus Winner (as Alice Hawthorne)
Music By Richard Milburn
1855

When the charms of spring awaken, awaken, awaken,
When the charms of spring awaken,
And the mocking bird is singing on the bough;
I feel like one forsaken, forsaken, forsaken,
I feel like one forsaken since my Hally is no longer with me now.

Chorus
Listen to the mocking bird, listen to the mocking bird,
The mocking bird still singing o'er her grave;
Listen to the mocking bird, listen to the mocking bird,
Still singing where the weeping willows wave.

I'm dreaming now of Hally, sweet Hally,
I'm dreaming now of Hally,
For the thought of her is one that never dies.
She's sleeping in the valley, the valley, the valley,
She's sleeping in the valley,
And the mocking bird is singing where she lies.

Ah, well I yet remember, remember, remember,
Ah, well I yet remember,
When we gathered the cotton side by side;
'Twas in mild September, September, September,
'Twas in mild September,
And the mocking bird was singing far and wide.


LITTLE RABBIT

Little rabbit, where's your mammy?
Little rabbit, where's your mammy?
I want to see your mammy;
Little rabbit, where's your mammy?

Little rabbit in the briar patch,
Little rabbit in the briar patch,
Don't get lost in the briar patch,
Little rabbit in the briar patch.

Little rabbit, where's your pappy?
Little rabbit, where's your pappy?
I want to see your pappy;
Little rabbit, where's your pappy?

Little rabbit, nose a-twitchin',
Little rabbit, nose a-twitchin',
Is rabbit's nose a-itchin'?
Little rabbit, nose a-twitchin'.

Little rabbit, where's your mammy?
Little rabbit, where's your mammy?
I want to see your mammy;
Little rabbit, where's your mammy?


LITTLE TOPSY'S SONG
Words By Eliza Cook
Music By Hutchinson
1853

"Topsy neber was born, neber had a moder;
'Spects I growed a nigger brat, just like any oder.
Whip me till the blood pours down - ole Missus use to do it;
She said she'd cut my heart right out, but never could go to it.
Got no heart I don't belieb - niggers do without 'em;
Never hear of God or Love, so can't tell much about 'em."

Chorus
This is Topsy's savage song,
Topsy cute and clever;
Hurrah! then, for the white man's right!
Slavery forever!

"I 'spects I'se very wicked, that's just what I am;
On'y you just give me a chance, won't I raise Ole Sam!
'Tain't no use in being good, cos' I'se black, you see;
I neber cared for nothing yet, and nothing cares for me.
Ha! ha! ha! Miss Feely's hand dun know how to grip me;
Neber likes to do no work, and won't, widout dey whip me."

"Don't you die, Miss Evy, else I go dead, too;
I knows I'se wicked, but I'll try and be all good to you.
You have taught me better things, though I'm nigger skin;
You have found poor Topsy's heart, 'spite of all its sin.
Don't you die, Miss Eva, dear, else I go dead, too;
Though I'se black, I'se sure that God will let me go with you."

Final Chorus
This is Topsy's human song,
Under love's endeavor;
Hurrah! then, for the white child's work!
Humanity forever!

Andrews'. Printer, 38 Chatham St, N. Y., Dealers in Songs, Toy Books, Motto Verses, &c.,
Wholesale and Retail.

 

The Little Turtle Dove

O, can't you see yon little turtle dove
Sitting under the mulberry tree?
See how that she doth mourn for her true love:
And I shall mourn for thee, my dear,
And I shall mourn for thee.

O, fare thee well, my little turtle dove,
And fare thee well for a while;
But though I go I'll surely come again,
If I go ten thousand mile, my dear,
If I go ten thousand mile.

Ten thousand mile is very far away,
For you to return to me,
You leave me here to lament, and well-a-day!

My tears you will not see, my love,
My tears you will not see.

The crow that's black, my little turtle dove,
Shall change its colour white
Before I'm false to the maiden I love,
The noonday shall be night, my dear,
The noonday shall be night.

The hills shall fly, my little turtle dove,
The roaring billows burn,
Before my heart shall suffer me to fail,
Or I a traitor turn, my dear,
Or I a traitor turn.


The Lone Star State

By Chas. E. Caylat
Private, 1st Company - Washington Artillery
Dedicated to Gen. J. Bankhead Magruder, C.S.A.
To be sung to the tune of THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG
Wilmington, N.C., September 19th, 1863


Mount, mount, and speed away to Louisiana's prairies wide,
Th' avenging sword is our sceptre, the fleet steed our pride;
Raise up! Our "Lone Star Flag", let its single Star gleam out,
Mount! mount! and speed away, put the Yankees to route!

Chorus
Hurrah! hurrah! for Southern Rights, hurrah!
Hurrah! for the Texan flag, that bears the Lone Star.

We care not for danger, nor heed the vile Northern foe,
Where e'er our brave steeds bear us, right onward we will go;
And ne'er, as Yankees, can we "skedaddle" from the fight,
While our hands wield the sword, and our Star sheds its light.

Spoken - (Forward! Counter-march, by file right! march!)

Delay not, but speed away, give the fleet steed the rein,
The Texan bold is to the Rescue, the Battle again,
Dash on! to Berwick's Bay; rush quickly to the fight,
Cry "Vengeance for Mumford!" and may God speed the right.

The Yankee vandal hordes, gather thick on our way,
They hear our defiant shout, as we rush to the fray;
What's to us the fear of Manasseh's death-stricken Plain,
"We have brav'd it before, and will brave it again!"

(Skirmish on the route)
Spoken - (Get ready! Fire!
Br-r rang! bang! bang- bang!)

The death dealing bullets all around us may fall,
They may strike, they may kill, but they cannot appall,
Through battles we'll follow Magruder and 'venge "Stonewall,"
While our breast bears a true heart, and our guns carry ball.

Hurrah! my boys, Hurrah! we're governed by whom we please,
No abhorred Yankee banner now floats in the breeze.
'Tis SECESSIA'S Flag that waves o'er Galveston's height,
And on its glorious folds our Lone Star sheds its light.

(Skirmish at Berwick Bay.
Spoken - Get ready! Fire! Br-r-rang! bang! bang! - bang!
Spoken - Head of column! to the left! March!)

Urge your horses swiftly on, give the fleet steed the rein,
The Texan bold is to the Rescue, the Battle again,
Rush on to New Orleans; rush bravely to the fight,
Cry "Vengeance for the South!" and God will speed the right.

A NEW VERSE ON FORT SUMTER

And here's a Tiger for the brave, and noble little band,
Which stood the fight and bravely drove the Yankees all away;
At SUMTER thrice they maintained and kept a gallant stand,
And lastly made the storming hordes skedaddle in dismay.

Final Chorus
Hurray! hurray! for the Sumter boys, Hurray!
Hurray for the Sumter boys, who brick-batt'd them all away!


Long, Long Ago
Words & Music By Thomas Haynes Bayly
1835

Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long long ago, long long ago.
Sing me the songs I delighted to hear,
Long long ago long ago.
Now you are come my grief is remov'd,
Let me forget that so long you have rov'd,
Let me believe that you love as you lov'd,
Long long ago, long ago.


Do you remember the path where we met,
Long long ago, long long ago?
Ah yes you told me you ne'er would forget,
Long long ago, long ago.
Then to all others my smile you prefer'd,
Love when you spoke gave a charm to each word,
Still my heart treasures the praises I heard,
Long long ago, long ago.

Though by your kindness my fond hopes were rais'd,
Long long ago, long long ago.
You by more eloquent lips have been prais'd,
Long long ago, long ago.
But by long absence your truth has been tried,
Still to your accents I listen with pride,
Blest as I was when I sat be your side,
Long long ago, long ago.




Evening Toilet
1851

LORENA
Words By Reverend Henry DeLafayette Webster
Music By Joseph P. Webster
1857

The years creep slowly by, Lorena,
The snow is on the grass again;
The sun
's low down the sky, Lorena,
The frost gleams where the flowers have been.
But the heart throbs on as warmly now
As when the summer days were nigh;
Oh, the sun can never dip so low
A-down affection's cloudless sky;
The sun can never dip so low
A-down affection's cloudless sky.

A hundred months have passed, Lorena,
Since last I held that hand in mine,
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,
Though mine beat faster far than thine.
A hundred months - 'twas flowery May
When up the hilly slope we climbed,
To watch the dying of the day
And hear the distant church bells chime;
To watch the dying of the day
And hear the distant church bells chime.

We loved each other then, Lorena,
More than we ever dared to tell;
And what we might have been, Lorena,
Had but our loving prospered well!
But then, 'tis past; the years have gone,
I'll not call up their shadowy forms;
I
'll say to them, "Lost years, sleep on,
Sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storms;"
I'll say to them, "Lost years, sleep on,
Sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storms."

The story of the past, Lorena,
Alas! I care not to repeat;
The hopes that could not last, Lorena,
They lived, but only lived to cheat.
I would not cause e'en one regret
To rankle in your bosom now
"For if we try we may forget,"
Were words of thine long years ago;
"For if we try we may forget,"
Were words of thine long years ago.

Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena;
They are within my memory yet.
They touched some tender chords, Lorena,
Which thrill and tremble with regret.
'Twas not the woman's heart which spoke;
Thy heart was always true to me;
A duty stern and piercing broke the tie
Which linked my soul with thee;
A duty stern and piercing broke the tie
Which linked my soul with thee.

It matters little now, Lorena,
The past is in th' eternal past;
Our hearts will soon lie low, Lorena,
Life's tide is ebbing out so fast.
There is a future, oh, thank God!
Of life this is so small a part;
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod,
But there - up there - 'tis heart to heart;
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod,
But there - up there - 'tis heart to heart.


LORENA'S REPLY

Or,
PAUL VANE


The years are creeping slowly by, dear Paul, the winters come and go;
The winds sweep past with mournful cry, dear Paul, and pelt my face with snow;
But there
's no snow upon the heart, dear Paul, 'tis summer always there;
Those early loves throw sunshine over all, and sweeten mem'ries dear.

I thought it easy to forget, dear Paul, life glowed with youthful hope;
The glorious future gleamed yet, dear Paul, and bade us clamber up;
They frowning said, "It must not, can not be; break now the hopeless bonds!"
And Paul, you know how well that bitter day, I bent to their commands.

I've kept you ever in my heart, dear Paul, through years of good and ill;
Our souls could not be torn apart, dear Paul, they're bound together still.
I never knew how dear you were to me 'till I was left alone;
I thought my poor, poor heart would break the day they told me you were gone.

Perhaps we'll never, never meet, dear Paul, upon this earth again;
But there, where happy angels greet, dear Paul, you'll meet Lorena there.
Together up the ever shining way, we'll press with hoping heart--
Together through the bright eternal day, and never more to part.


LOU'SIANA BELLE

Words And Music By Stephen Collins Foster
1847

Oh! Lou'siana's de same old state whar Massa us'd to dwell;
He had a lubbly cullud gal - 'twas the Lou'siana Belle.

Chorus
Oh! Belle, don't you tell, don't tell Massa, don't you, Belle;
Oh! Belle, de Lou'siana Belle, I's gwine to marry you, Lou'siana Belle

I went to de ball de udder night, I cut a mighty swell;
I danc'd de Polka pigeonwing wid de Lou'siana Belle.

Dere's Dandy Jim ob Caroline - I knows him by de swell -
Tryin to come it mighty fine wid de Lou'siana Belle.

Dere's first de B and den de E, an' den de double LL;
Anodder E to de end ob dat spells Lou'siana Belle.


LOU'SIANA GALS

As I was walkin' down the street, down the street, down the street,
As I was walkin' down the street I met a gal named Sue.

Chorus
Oh, Louisiana gals won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight;
Louisiana gals won't you come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon?

Now I've got a gal with a wart on her chin, toes turned out and her eyes turned in;
Pretty good gal for the shape she's in; tell me she's comin' out tonight.

I asked her if she'd have a dance, have a dance, have a dance,
I thought that I might have a chance to shake a foot with her.

I've got a gal at the top of the hill, she won't dance but her sister will;
Moonshiner's daughter, but I love her still; she's comin' out tonight.

I danced with a gal with a hole in her stockin', and her knees kept a-knockin', but her toes kept a-rockin';
With her head throwed back like a pistol a-cockin': tell me she's comin' out tonight.


LOYAL PAT'S DEDICATION TO
THE IRISH TRAITOR
OF BALTIMORE
To the tune of RORY O'MORE

Ye'r copperhead Pat, and pray all what about,
Have ye jined the rebs, to keck ould Samuel out?
But ould Samuel's at home, Yes! all o'er the soil,
He fought for it, bought it - he got it by toil.

Chorus
The green of our Erin must always be true
To the stars, to the stripes--to the red, white and blue.

Ye thaving mean rebel, what stahle half the plantation?
To do that ye've got to break up the big nation.
If ye've got any sense, just reflect for a minet,
Its darty work, Pat, and don't put y'r foot in it.

With lazy black naygurs, as black as the crow,
Ye'd plant aristocracy - but Pat, it won't grow.
Such rubbish as that won't thrive on this soil,
The best patch of potatoes, it 'd devilish soon spoil.

Ye darty blackguard, ye barefooted the bog,
Ye snaggling ould scorpion, ye'd see Uncle Sam flogg'd;
Have ye turned copperhead - a great country to destroy?
That'll make you a man, of a poor beggar boy?

By St. Patrick, that drove all the snakes out our land,
If ye play the snake here, devil a chance will ye stand;
The poisonous reptiles we'll scotch 'em out here,
With our heels on their heads, to keep the soil clear.

Ould England, that kept us a starving at home,
Better mind her own business and let us alone;
With "Belligerent rights and Neutral shame",
She'll find out some day, two can play at that game.

The flag that carried our starving poor bread,
Shall wave to eternity o'er my head;
To the rays of the sun - forever unfurled,
The banner of liberty - the light of the world.

Irish men, who 'gainst this country now go,
In principle make a cowardly show.
They swore, they voted, the Union to protect,
If honest in conscience, their oath can't forget.


LUBLY FAN
Words And Music By Cool White
1843

As I was lumb'ring down the street, down de street, down de street;
Dat color'd gal I chanc'd to meet - oh, she was fair to view.

Chorus
Den, lubly Fan, will you come out tonight,
Will you come out tonight, will you come out tonight?
Den, lubly Fan, will you come out tonight,
An' dance by de light ob de moon?

I stopt her an' I had some talk, had some talk, had some talk;
But her foot covered up de whole sidewalk, an' left no room for me.

She's de prettiest gal I seen in my life, seen in my life, seen in my life;
An' I wish to de Lord she was my wife, den we would part no more.

Den we stopped and had some talk, we had some talk, we had some talk,
And her heel covered up de whole sidewalk as she stood right by me.

I'd like to kiss dem lubly lips, dem lubly lips, dem lubly lips,
I t'ink dat I would lose my wits, and drap right on de floor.

Her lips am like de oyster plant, de oyster plant, de oyster plant;
I'd love to kiss 'em but I can't - dey am so berry large.

I ax'd her if she'd like to dance, like to dance, like to dance;
I thought dat I might have a chance to shake my foot wid her.

I danc'd all night and my heel kept a-rockin', O, my heel kept a-rockin',
O, my heel kept a-rockin',
An' I balance to de gal wid a hole in her stocking - she's de prettiest gal in de room.

I'se bound to make dat gal my wife, dat gal my wife, dat gal my wife,
O, I'd be happy all my life if I had her along wid me.

Oh, make haste Fan, don't make me wait, make me wait, make me wait;
I fear you've kept me now too late - yes, dere's de ebening gun.


LUCY LONG
Words & Music: Anonymous
1844

Oh, I jist come out before you, to sing a little song;
I play it on de banjo, an' I call it LUCY LONG.

Chorus
So take your time, Miss Lucy; take your time, Miss Lucy Long.
Take your time, Miss Lucy, oh, Lucy, Lucy Long.

Oh, if I had a scolding wife, I'd whip her, sure's you're born;
I'd take her down to New Orleans and trade her off for corn.

I took Miss Lucy walking, I did not mind expense;
I bought her dat dar parasol - it cost me eighteen pence.

Miss Lucy, when she trabbels, she always leaves de mark
Ob her footsteps in de gravel, you can see dem in de dark.

The world was made in six days, an' 'twas built up very strong,
But I guess it took de sebenth to finish Lucy Long.

Lucy cuts de pidgeon wing, and dances fancy reels;
Fust time I eber seen her, I cotch'd her skinnin' eels.

Conundrums:

Suppose I should draw off and hit you in the eye, why would that be like a monied transaction?
Because it would be a note of hand delivered at sight.

Why is a married man like an opposition steamboat?
Because he is liable to be blown up very often.

Sung nightly, with Tremendous Applause, by all the Minstrel Bands. Andrews', Printer, 38 Chatham St, N. Y., Dealer in Songs, Games, Toy Books, Motto Verses, &c., Wholesale and Retail.

The affection in which horses were held can often be seen in their naming. In the Abingdon Virginian of February 13, 1891, it was recorded that 

"There have appeared from time to time during the past year announcements in Southern newspapers of war-horses ridden during the war by some Confederate soldier, with the caption, 'The Last War Horse Of The Confederacy,' or something similar.

"It will be learned, doubtless with surprise by some, that there is yet living and in good health, save for the infirmities common to old age, a horse ridden in battle during the war by General Robert E. Lee. It is 'Lucy Long,' a little sorrel mare, which many will recall having seen ladies ride through the streets of Lexington alongside of General Lee astride of his more famous war-horse 'Traveller.'

"Lucy Long was a present to General Lee from General J. E. B. Stuart in 1862, when the former was conducting the Sharpsburg campaign. That summer George Lee was standing in a skirmish line holding Traveller.

"The horse was high-spirited, impatient and hard to hold and pulled the General down a steep bank and broke his hands. For a time he found it necessary to travel in an ambulance. It was then that General Stuart found Lucy Long, bought her and gave her to him.

"She was a low, easy moving, and quiet sorrel mare. General Stuart purchased her from Mr. Stephen Dandridge, the owner of "The Bower,' a country place in Jefferson county, famous in that day for its hospitality and a famous resort of Stuart with his staff when in that locality. General Lee rode Lucy Long for two years until, when in the lines around Petersburg, she got with foal, and he sent her to the rear, and once more mounted Traveller. She was stolen just before the close of the war, and after the surrender was found in the eastern part of the State, and Captain R. E. Lee brought her to Lexington to his father.

"Several years after General Lee's death, and possibly thirteen years ago, while running at large in the grounds in the rear of the University, by some unknown means Lucy Long got the leaders of her hind legs cut. She was henceforth of no service, and General Custis Lee got the late John Riplogle, the greatest horse lover in Rockbridge in his day, to take charge of her on his farm on Buffalo. On Mr. Riplogle's death, a few years ago, she was turned over to the care of Mr. John R. Mackay, who lives in the same neighborhood, and there she is at this time.

"When purchased by General Stuart she was said to be five years old. She is probably now in her thirty-fourth year. She is thin in flesh, though her eye has not lost its wonted brightness and her health apparently is good. She eats dry food with difficulty, hence her present condition. During the grazing season she fattens on the soft grasses of the pasture."


LYNCHBURG TOWN

Chorus
Going down to town, going down to town,
Going down to Lynchburg Town to take my tobacco down.

Massa had an old gray horse, took him down to town;
Sold him for a half a dollar and only a quarter down.

O1d Massa had a brand new coat and he hung it on the wall;
A nigger stole old Massa's coat and wore it to the ball.

Old Massa to the sheriff wrote and sent it by the mail;
Mr. Sheriff got old Massa's note and put the thief in jail.

Old Massa had a big brick house, 'twas sixteen stories high,
And every story in that house was full of chicken pie.

Old Massa was a rich old man - he was richer than a king -
He made me beat the old tin pan while Sary Jane would sing.

O1d Massa bought a yaller gal, he fotch her from the South;
Her hair was wrapped so very tight she couldn't shut her mouth.

Massa had an old black hen, she laid behind the door;
Every day she laid three eggs, and Sunday she laid more.

Massa had an old coon dog and he was a half a hound;
He could run for an hour and a half and never touch the ground.

Somebody's stole my old coon dog - I wish they'd bring him back ;
He run the old ones over the fence and the little ones through the crack.

I went down to town and went into the store,
And every pretty girl in that town came running to the door.

Last time I saw my girl, she was standing in the door,
Her shoes and stockings in her hand and her feet all over the floor.

I went down to town to get me a jug o' wine;
They tied me up to a whipping post and give me forty-nine.

I went down to town to get me a jug of gin;
They tied me up to a whipping post and give me hell agin.

Final Chorus
Times a-getting hard, money getting sca'ce;
Pay me for th' tobacco, boys, and I will leave this place.


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