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lee's songbook

n


the name of jesus
See HOW SWEET THE NAME OF JESUS SOUNDS


naomi wise
See OMIE WISE


A NATIONAL SONG:
UNCLE SAM CONSUMPTED!
WHAT WILL CURE HIM?

To the tune of YANKEE DOODLE

Across the Ocean lived a Bull,
Foul,
fat and (over) forty,
Who always hated Uncle Sam,
But sadly feared a sortie.

And as he looked and grumbled on,
Our Uncle Sam grew bigger,
Till Johnny settled on a plan,
The "wool game" and the nigger.

He "pulled the wool" over Samuel's eyes,
Made Buzzards of his Eagle,
Made black men white; and white men fight,
And wholesale plunder legal.

Our wise men thought that Sam was sick,
Or drunk, or else deluded,
But Sumner, Greely, Wade & Co.
"Kept Dark"and merely hooted.

"We daily feel his pulse," they say,
"He's gay as any Rocket,"
(Instead of feeling of his pulse,
They merely felt his pocket.)

But now the old man's sick a bed,
And if you turn him over,
You'll find his face is mortified,
And his Back is Green all over.

He'll call in other Doctors soon,
Try every thing that offers,
But he has got Consumption sure,
For he's ailing in the Coffers, (Cough-ers.)

The only thing t'will save him now,
And much for it he hankers,
Is the ten cent "Pulmonic Drops,"
The "Tar Drops" made by "Ankers."

Every body should use ANKERS' PULMONIC TAR DROPS. They cure COUGHS, COLDS, HOARSENESS and BAD BREATH, so disagreeable to every one with whom its possessor comes in contact. They cost but TEN CENTS A PACKAGE. Give them a trial. For sale by all Druggists and Confectioneries.

N. B. Be cautious to ask for Anker's Pulmonic Tar Drops,
And pay no more than 10 cents for a package


NATIONAL THANKSGIVING ODE
C.C. HAVEN
Trenton, New Jersey, November 1863
To the tune of OLD HUNDRED

Ancient of Days! before Whose throne,
A sovereign Nation humbly bows!
O! teach our hearts Thy love to own;
Accept a grateful People's vows.

Our Fathers' God! We rest on Thee!
Thou wast their help, their hope, their all;
O! still our shield and refuge be,
And let their mantle on us fall!

Cheer'd with this hope glad notes of praise,
Mingled with sympathetic tears,
This day, throughout our land we'll raise,
And, arm'd with Faith, dismiss our fears.

Though War's dire ills o'er-spread the land,
Ordain'd our country's faults to mend,
God! still preserve a faithful band
Our Sovereign Union to defend.

Before no Throne but Thine we'll bow,
To Right and Freedom make us true;
The Trusts we hold, preserve, as now,
From Sires to Sons for ever due.

For garners full and gains from toil,
Free homes and blessings numberless,
Let joy o'er-spread Columbia's soil,
And heartfelt songs our thanks express.

We welcome with no common joy
Our Freedmen's rescue and relief,
Heroic aids in our employ, with us,
They'll bless our noble Chief.

Beneath Thy banner, marching on,
Still for our enemies we'll pray;
Till Victory and Peace be won and
Freedom's light brings perfect day.

Doxology
Hear us, O! Father, through Thy Son
Be all our nation's sins forgiven,
"Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done
In all the Earth, as 'tis in Heaven."


NEARER MY GOD, TO THEE

Words By Sarah Flower Adams
Music By Lowell Mason
1859

Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!
E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me,
Still all my song shall be: nearer, my God, to Thee.
Nearer, my God, to Thee; Nearer to Thee!

Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,
Darkness be over me, my rest a stone.
Yet in my dreams I'd be nearer, my God to Thee.
Nearer, my God, to Thee; Nearer to Thee!

There let the way appear, steps unto heav'n;
All that Thou sendest me, in mercy given;
Angels to beckon me nearer, my God, to Thee.
Nearer, my God, to Thee; Nearer to Thee!

Then, with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise;
So by my woes to be nearer, my God, to Thee.
Nearer, my God, to Thee; Nearer to Thee!

Or, if on joyful wing cleaving the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upward I'll fly,
Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee.
Nearer, my God, to Thee; Nearer to Thee!

There in my Father's home, safe and at rest,
There in my Savior's love, perfectly blest;
Age after age to be, nearer my God to Thee.
Nearer, my God, to Thee; Nearer to Thee!


Negro Battle Hymn

Hark! Listen to the trumpeters,
They call for volunteers,
On Zion's bright and flow'ry mount,
Behold the officers.

Chorus
They look like men, they look like men,
They look like men of war;
All armed and dressed in uniform,
They look like men of war.
Their horses white, their armor bright,
With courage bold they stand,
Enlisting soldiers for their King,
To march to Canaan's land.

It sets my heart quite in a flame, A soldier thus to be,
I will enlist, gird on my arms, And fight for liberty.

We want no cowards in our band that will their colors fly;
We call for valiant hearted men who're not afraid to die.

To see our armies on parade, how martial they appear,
All armed and dressed in uniform, they look like men of war.

They follow their great General, the great Eternal Lamb,
His garment stained with His own blood - King Jesus is His name.

The trumpets sound, the armies shout, they drive the host of Hell;
How dreadful is our God to adore, the great Immanuel.

"While recruiting and drilling the 9th Regiment, U S Colored Troops at Benedict, Maryland in the winter of 1863-64, the men gathered around the campfire would sing by the hour the melodies of the plantation slave life that they had just left - not always very melodious; but late one evening I was startled by a magnificent chorus from nearly a thousand black soldiers that called me from my tent to listen to its most inspiring strains, and I caught the words which I called the NEGRO BATTLE HYMN."  -  S.C. Armstrong


NELLY BLY

Words And Music By Stephen Collins Foster
1850

Nelly Bly! Nelly Bly! Bring de broom along,
We'll sweep de kitchen clean, my dear, and hab a little song.
Poke de wood, my lady lub, an' make de fire burn,
An' while I take de banjo down, just gib de mush a turn.

Chorus
Heigh! Nelly, Ho! Nelly, listen lub to me,
I'll sing for you, play for you a dulcem melody.
Heigh! Nelly, Ho! Nelly, listen lub to me,
I'll sing for you, play for you a dulcem melody.

Nelly Bly hab a voice like de turtle dove
I hears in de meadow an' I hears it in de grove;
Nelly Bly hab a heart warm as a cup ob tea,
An' bigger dan de sweet potato down in Tennessee.

Nelly Bly shuts her eye when she goes to sleep;
When she wakens up agin her eyeballs 'gin to peep.
De way she walks, she lifts her foot, an' den she brings it down,
An' when it lights, dar's music dah in dat part ob de town.

Nelly Bly! Nelly Bly! nebber, nebber sigh,
Nebber bring de tear drop to de corner ob your eye;
For de pie is made ob punkins, an' de mush is made ob corn,
An' dar's corn an' punkins plenty, lub, a lyin' in de barn.

Christy's Favorite Song.


NELLY GRAY

See DARLING NELLY GRAY


nelly was a lady
Words And Music By Stephen Collins Foster
1849

Down on de Mississippi floating,
Long time I trabble on de way,
All night de cottonwood a toting,
Sing for my true lub all de day.

Chorus
Nelly was a lady,
Last night she died,
Toll de bell for lubly Nell,
My dark Virginny bride.

Now I'm unhappy, and I'm weeping,
Can't tote de cottonwood no more;
Last night, while Nelly was a sleeping,
Death came a-knockin' at de door.


When I saw my Nelly in de morning,
Smile till she open'd up her eyes;
Seem'd like de light ob day a dawning,
Jist 'fore de sun begin to rise.

Close by de margin ob de water
Whar de lone weeping willow grows,
Dar lib'd Virginny's lubly daughter;
Dar she in death may find repose.

Down in de meadow 'mong de clober,
Walk wid my Nelly by my side;
Now all dem happy days am ober,
Farewell, my dark Virginny bride.

Published By Firth & Pond, 1849


new emancipation song
Words By R.A.T.
Music By Mrs. Parkhurst

Oh! Give the slaves their freedom,
You surely do not need them,
And no longer clothe and feed them,
In these United States.

Chorus
For they all sigh for freedom,
They all sigh for freedom,
For they all sigh for freedom
In these United States.

Then the slave no longer belabor,
But act the part of neighbor,
And hire white men to labor
In these United States.

Already the salvation
Of our slave-holding nation
Demands emancipation
Of slaves in the States.

Then renounce your cruel knavery
Of keeping men in slavery,
For it's getting quite unsavory
E'en in the border States.

Oh, let not our free soil
Be degraded by the toil
Of the men whom you despoil
In these United States.

Release from bondage dreary
Each darkey and his deary,
And don't send 'em to Liberi'
From these United States.

Esteem it but a fable
That white men are not able
To take the place of sable
Slaves in the States.

And hire maids whose pretty faces
The rose and lily graces
To keep your pleasant places
In these United States.

If you wish to be commended
Let not slavery be extended,
But its reign quickly ended
In these United States.


THE NEW JIM CROW SONG,
ABOUT THE DARKIES AND THE WAR

The government and the dixies have got into a fight,
And they will put the dixies down, and make them do what's right.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

The dixies falsely charge the North with causing all the muss,
And 'bout the darkies being freed, we hear a monstrous fuss.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

The dixies say the darkey's head for learning is not fit;
But they won't let him try to learn; they fear he has the wit.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

If the darkey has no human soul, as we do of'n hear,
The dev'l may get the master, but the darkey will get clear.

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

If the darkies are not persons, tell me why, you dixie men,
When you elect for Congress, you make darkies persons then.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

When the peop'l are represented, of them the slaves are part;
Another time they are chattels - O, gosh! but that is smart.

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

But if the slave is represented only as a chatt'l,
Why don't you send some Congressmen to represent the catt'l.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

Oh! how it made me laugh when that old Judge put it out
That black men have no rights for the whites to care about.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

If that Judge should want his hir'd blacks to trust him for their pay,
They'll answer "We're afraid to trust, we have no rights you say."
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

If darkies are of little use, or of no use at all,
The fat about their master's ribs would soon be getting small.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

The dixies pick out scripture to prove that slav'ry's right,
But they do make a bad mistake - that shows they're not so bright.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

They say because the Bible did once the Jews allow
To get bondsmen of the heathen, that bondage should be now.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

Why should dixies not be slaves, if their argument is true,
For who were their ancient fathers? They were heathens, too.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

Among the heathen were many whites, the Book shows that to me;
If only blacks were bought, that account I'd like to see.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

They say that any nation white that has some knowledge got,
Should enslave an ignorant dark one, but that I reckon not.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

If that creed's true, one white man that's whiter than another
And learned a little more should enslave his darker brother.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

They say de Lord made darkies slaves, for their masters them to
To be enlighten'd Christians - that's a splendid yarn to preach.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

Oh! won't the slaves be Christ'ans when their teachers love to fight
And swear so hard and gamble, and get so awful "tight."
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

They teach amalgamation and chicken-fighting too;
They soon will teach a Bible new - they find the old won't do.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

Old Noah once got tipsy, he was on a kind of spree,
And said that Ham's son Canaan should servant of servants be.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

The dixies say the darkies are Can'ns black posterity.
And from the curse of Noah they must be in slavery.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

That tale I cannot swallow, when they way the Lord did damn
The darkies into slav'ry, because Noah grow'ld at Ham.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

If the darkies came from Canaan, then the argument will go
To prove they came from first stock; yes, sirs, you'll find that's so.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

For look into the hist'ry book, and that will let you know
That mighty, enlightn'd nations did from Canaan grow.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

They say the slaves, if they be freed, to Northern States will run;
But 'mong the things we'll never see, I reckon that is one.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

To go to chilly climates, from the south where long he's been,
To find work he is not us'd to, the darkey's not so green.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

When darkies ran to Northern States, they went there to be free;
When in the South they all are freed, they'll just stay there, you see.

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

The southern "silk gloves" nev'r work in fields of cotton and rice.
They'll be glad to hire darkies yet, I guess, at any price.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

If some folks could ev'r get so high as Heaven's gates so fair,
They'd stop to ask the question, whether darkies ev'r come there.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

And if in Heav'n they'd find some souls of persons that are black,
They'd call it an abolition place, and soon they'd hurry back.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

We had a mighty battle at a place they call Bull Run;
The rebels there began to crow and thought the war was done.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

The Un'ous gain'd the battle, but they didn't know they won,
And when the rebels were 'bout to fly, the Un'ons chose to run.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

At Hat'ras, Drainsville and Henry, the rebels did get thunder;
They open'd wide their mouths and eyes when they began to wonder.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

At the battle in Kentucky, near the place called Somerset,
The reb'ls fast made straight coat tails and ain't done running yet.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

The mighty fight at Don'lson, makes bad news for any rebel;
The Yankee guns, I am afraid, sent hundreds to the devil.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

At that battle, traitor Floyd, in the service of "Old Nick,"
Didn't want so soon to go to him, so he heel'd it doub'l quick.

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

The first day at Pittsburg Landing, the reb'ls were sure the'yd won,
But I think they found the next day that secesh there was done.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

When the reb'ls felt so joyful - just going to jump Jim Crow -
The Yankee guns play'd music, and the jumping was not slow.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

One rebel army march'd somewhere and took four days to go,
And coming back, they took two days - the why I'll let you know.

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

When marching there, they play'd the tune of "Dixie," full of fun,
They came back a playing "Mountains On Fire, Run Boys, Run!"
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

The reb'ls find the sour crout Dutch and ped'ling Yankees, too
They talk about so often will give them enough to do.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

Jeff Davis's time is growing short; the time he has too stay,
Before "Old Nick" will call him home, another part to play

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

Jeff Davis wants to wear a crown, high above all to be,
So put the rope around his neck, to raise him high, you see.
So I wheel about, I turn about,
I do just so,
And every time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

And now good gents and ladies, I bid you all adieu,
And when you want a Un'on man, you'll find Jim Crow "true blue."

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

Entered according to act of Congress in the Clerk's office of the
District Court of the United States in the Northern District of Ohio,
In the year 1862, by the Author


NEW JOHNNY, Fill up the Bowl!
To the tune of WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME

Jeff, Davis is a stupid fool,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
He thinks he can the Union rule,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
He never went a day to school,
And is as stubborn as a mule,
We'll all drink stone blind -
Johnny, fill up the bowl!

King Cotton is Jeff's darling pet,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
It will deceive him, mark me, yet,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Then he'll rave and fume and fret,
Was there an ass like him e'er met,
We'll all drink stone blind -
Johnny, fill up the bowl!

John Bull and Johnny Frenchman still,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Jeff, dreams they will his coffers fill,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
He'll soon find out to his disgrace,
And wish himself out of the place,
We'll all drink stone blind -
Johnny, fill up the bowl!

His blockade runners are all gone,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
His Cabinet are pale and wan,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Our Union still is pushing on,
To hang the traitors one by one,
We'll all drink stone blind -
Johnny, fill up the bowl!

You'd better then give up at once,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
And play no more the rebel dance,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Then we'll extend a brother's hand,
And form again a happy land,
We'll all drink stone blind -
Johnny, fill up the bowl!

J. H. JOHNSON'S CARD AND JOB PRINTING OFFICE, No. 18 N. Tenth Street above Market, Phila.

Cards, Bill Heads, Circulars, Hand Bills, Labels, Envelopes, Meeting Notices, Ball Tickets, Raffle Tickets, Party Tickets, Ladies' Invitations, Programmes, Checks, Badges, Visiting Cards, &c., &c., &c., Neatly Printed


New Star Spangled Banner
Words by Edna Dean Proctor
Music by Joseph Philbrick Webster
1861

Oh, Star Spangled Banner! the Flag of our pride!
Tho' trampled by traitors and basely defied,
Fling out to the glad winds your Red, White and Blue,
For the heart of the Northland is beating for you!
And her strong arm is nerving to strike with a will
'Till the foe and his boastings are humbled and still!
Here's welcome to wounding and combat and scars
And the glory of death - for the Stripes and the Stars!

Chorus
And her strong arm is serving to strike with a will
Till the foe and his boastings are humbled and still!
Here's welcome to wounding and combat and scars
And the glory of death - for the Stripes and the Stars!

From Prairie, O plowman! speed boldly away -
There's seed to be sown in God's furrows today -
Row landward, lone fisher! stout woodman, come home!
Let smith beat his anvil and weaver his loom,
And hamlet and city ring loud with the cry,
"For God and our country we'll fight till we die!"
Here's welcome to wounding and combat and scars
And the glory of death - for the Stripes and the Stars!

Invincible Banner! the Flag of the Free!
O where treads the foot that would falter for thee?
And the hand to be folded till triumph is won
And the Eagle looks proud, as of old, to the sun?
Give tears for the parting - a murmur of prayer -
Then Forward! the flame of our standard to share!
With welcome to wounding and combat and scars
And the glory of death - for the Stripes and the Stars!

O God of our Fathers! this Banner must shine
Where battle is hottest, in warfare divine!
The cannon has thundered, the bugle has blown -
We fear not the summons - we fight not alone!
O lead us, till wide from the Gulf to the Sea
The land shall be sacred to Freedom and Thee!
With love, for oppression; with blessing, for scars -
One Country - one Banner - the Stripes and the Stars!


nigger lou
See TELL POOR LOU I'M GONE


NIGGERS IN CONVENTION

Sumner's Speech.

Welcome my bredren - here you is, I greets you wid delight;
On t'ings ob moment I has riz to speak to you dis night.
I wants to 'sult wid you my friends, about the nigger arming,
Fur sticking in the battle's front, I t'ink it's quite alarming.

My bredren, we don't want to fight just in de front ob battle;
We should be in a desperate fright to hear de cannon rattle.
But let us get de arms, my boys, and gosh! dey may depend on't;
Dey've on'y jest begun de war, and won't much like de end on't.

And if de South should not be crush - and well we knows it won't -
We'll turn de tables den my friends, and show a different front;
Our time is coming, ebery dog 'tis said will hab his day;
So now de white dog is play out, de black dog he mus' play.


NO HIDIN' PLACE

Negro Spiritual

Chorus
No hidin' place down here,
No hidin' place down here;
Run to the rocks to hide my face,
Rocks cried out, "No hiding place!"
No hidin' place down here.

Who saw dem chillun dressed in red?
Who saw dem chillun dressed in red?
Who saw dem chillun dressed in red?
Must be de chillun dat Moses led.
No hidin' place down here.

Who saw dem chillun dressed in black?
Who saw dem chillun dressed in black?
Who saw dem chillun dressed in black?
Must be de Israelites de Lord turned back.
No hidin' place down here.

Who saw dem chillun dressed in white?
Who saw dem chillun dressed in white?
Who saw dem chillun dressed in white?
Must be de chillun ob de Israelite.
No hidin' place down here.

No hidin' place down here;
No hidin' place down here.
Boatman, boatman, row to de side -
Can't get to Heab'n 'gainst wind and tide.
No hidin' place down here.

No hidin' place down here;
No hidin' place down here.
Sinner man, sinner man, you best repent -
God's gwine-a take you to final judgment.
No hidin' place down here.

Sinner man, he stumbled and he fell;
Sinner man, he stumbled and he fell.
Oh, de sinner man stumbled and den he fell -
Want to go to Heaven but had to go to ...
Well, dere's no hidin' place down here.

Rock cried out, "I's burning, too";
Rock cried out, "I's burning, too".
Ol' rock cried out, "I's burning, too -
I want to go to Heab'n, same as you."
No hidin' place down here.

Who saw dem men in Richmond gray?
Who saw dem men in Richmond gray?
Who saw dem men in Richmond gray?
Must be de fellows from de WA.
No hidin' place down here.


NO IRISH NEED APPLY

I'm a dacint boy, just landed from the town of Ballyfad;
I want a situation: yis, I want it mighty bad.
I saw a place advartised. It's the thing for me, says I;
But the dirty spalpeen ended with, "No Irish need apply."
"Whoo!" says I; "But that's an insult -- though to get the place I'll try."
So, I wint to see the blaggar with, "No Irish need apply."

I started off to find the house, I got it mighty soon;
There I found the ould chap saited: he was reading The Tribune.
I tould him what I came for, whin he in a rage did fly:
No! says he, you are a Paddy, and no Irish need apply!
Thin I felt my dandher rising, and I'd like to black his eye -
To tell an Irish Gintleman "No Irish need apply!"

I couldn't stand it longer: so, a hoult of him I took,
And I gave him such a welting as he'd get at Donnybrook.
He hollered: Millia murther! and to get away did try,
And swore he'd never write again "No Irish need apply."
He made a big apology; I bid him thin good-bye,
Saying, "Whin next you want a bating, add: No Irish need apply!"

Sure, I've heard that in America it always is the plan
That an Irishman is just as good as any other man;
A home and hospitality they never will deny
The stranger here, or ever say, "No Irish need apply."
But some black sheep are in the flock: a dirty lot, say I;
A dacint man will never write: "No Irish need apply!"

Sure, Paddy's heart is in his hand, as all the world does know,
His praties and his whiskey he will share with friend or foe;
His door is always open to the stranger passing by;
He never thinks of saying, "None but Irish may apply."
And, in Columbia's history, his name is ranking high -
Thin, the Divil take the knaves that write, "No Irish need apply!"

Ould Ireland on the battlefield a lasting fame has made;
We all have heard of Meagher's men, and Corcoran's brigade.
Though fools may flout and bigots rave, and fanatics may cry,
Yet when they want good fighting men, the Irish may apply,
And when for freedom and the right they raise the battle cry,
Then the Rebel ranks begin to think: "No Irish need apply!"

Written by JOHN F. POOLE, and sung, with immense success,
By the great Comic-Vocalist of the age, TONY PASTOR.
H. DE MARSAN, Publisher, 54 Chatham Street, New York.


NO IRISH NEED APPLY
Miss Kathleen O'Neil
1862

WANTED.--A smart active girl to do the general housework of a large family, 
one who can cook, clean Plates, and get up fine linen, preferred.
N. B.--No Irish need Apply.
London Times Newspaper
February 1862.

I'm a simple Irish girl, and I'm looking for a place;
I've felt the grip of poverty, but sure that's no disgrace.
'Twill be long before I get one, tho' indeed it's hard I try,
For I read in each advertisement, "No Irish need apply."
Alas! for my poor country, which I never will deny,
How they insult us when they write, "No Irish need apply."

Now I wonder what's the reason that the fortune-favored few
Should throw on us that dirty slur, and treat us as they do.
Sure they all know Paddy's heart is warm, and willing is his hand;
They rule us, yet we may not earn a living in their land.
O, to their sister country, how can they bread deny,
By sending forth this cruel line, "No Irish need apply."

Sure I did not do the like when they anchor'd on our shore,
For Irish hospitality there's no need to deplore,
And every door is open to the weary stranger still,
Pat would give his last Potato, yes, and give it with a will,
Nor whisky, which he prizes so, in any case deny;
Then wherefore do they always write, "No Irish need apply."

Now what have they against us, sure the world knows Paddy's brave,
For he's helped to fight their battles, both on land and on the wave;
At the storming of Sebastopol, and beneath an Indian sky,
Pat raised his head, for their General said, "All Irish might apply."
Do you mind Lieutenant Massy, when he raised the battle cry?
Then are they not ashamed to write, "No Irish need apply?"

Then they can't deny us genius, with "Sheridan" - "Tom Moore?"
The late lamented "Catharine Hays," and "Sam Lover" to the fore;
Altho' they may laugh at our "Bulls," they cannot but admit,
That Pat is always sensible and has a ready wit;
And if they ask for Beauty, what can beat their nice black eye?
Then is it not a shame to write, "No Irish need apply?"

Och! the French must loudly crow to find we're slighted thus,
For they can ne'er forget the blow that was dealt by one of us;
If the Iron Duke of Wellington had never drawn his sword,
They might have had "Napoleon Sauce" with their beef, upon my word.
They think now of their hero, dead; his name will never die,
Where will they get another such if "No Irish need apply?"

Ah! but now I'm in the land of the "Glorious and Free,"
And proud I am to own it, a country dear to me.
I can see by your kind faces, that you will not deny
A place in your hearts for Kathleen, where "All Irish may apply."
Then long may the Union flourish, and ever may it be,
A pattern to the world, and the "Home of Liberty!"

J. H. JOHNSON, Song Publisher, 7 N. Tenth St., Philadelphia.
Written and sung by Miss KATHLEEN O'NEIL.


no one to love
Words adapted by A. H. G. Richardson
Music arranged by William B. Harvey and C. Everest
1863

No one to love, none to caress,
Roaming alone through this world's wilderness,
Sad is my heart, joy is unknown,
For in my sorrow I'm weeping alone;
No gentle voice, no tender smile,
Makes me rejoice, or cares beguile.

Refrain
No one to love, none to caress,
Roaming alone through this world's wilderness,
Sad is my heart, joy is unknown,
For in my sorrow I'm weeping a lone;

In dreams alone, loved ones I see,
And well-known voices then whisper to me;
Sighing I wake, waking I weep;
Soon with the loved and the lost I shall sleep.
Oh, blissful rest! what heart would stay,
Unloved, unbless'd, from heaven away?

No one to love, none to caress,
None to respond to this heart's tenderness!
Trusting I wait; God in his love
Promises rest in his mansions above;
Oh! bliss in store, oh, joy mine own,
There nevermore to weep alone!


nobody knows the trouble i seen
Negro Spiritual

Nobody knows de trouble I seen,
Nobody knows my sorrows;
Nobody knows de trouble I seen,
Nobody knows but Jesus.

Sometimes I'm up, sometimes I'm down -
Nobody knows but Jesus;
If you get there before I do -
Glory hallelujah!

Oh nobody knows de trouble I've seen,
Nobody knows my sorrows;
Nobody knows de trouble I've seen,
Nobody knows but Jesus.


Not All The Blood Of Beasts

Not all the blood of beasts,
On Jewish altars slain,
Could give the guilty conscience peace,
Or wash away the stain. 

But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,
Takes all our sins away; 
A sacrifice of nobler name,
And richer blood, than they. 

My faith would lay her hand
On that dear head of thine, 
While like a penitent I stand,
And there confess my sin. 


My soul looks back, to see
The burdens thou didst bear, 
When hanging on the cursed tree,
And hopes her guilt was there. 

Believing, we rejoice
To see the curse remove; 
We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice,
And sing his bleeding love.


not what my hands have done
Horatius Bonar
George Walter Martin
1862

Not what my hands have done can save my guilty soul;
Not what my toiling flesh has borne can make my spirit whole.
Not what I feel or do can give me peace with God;
Not all my prayers and sighs and tears can bear my awful load.

Your voice alone, O Lord, can speak to me of grace;
Your power alone, O Son of God, can all my sin erase.
No other work but Yours, no other blood will do;
No strength but that which is divine can bear me safely through.

I praise the Christ of God; I rest on love divine;
And with unfaltering lip and heart I call this Savior mine.
My Lord has saved my life and freely pardon gives;
I love because He first loved me, I live because He lives.


nothing but a plain old soldier
Stephen Collins Foster

I'm nothing but a plain old soldier,
An old Revolutionary soldier,
But I've handled a gun where noble deeds were done,
For the name of my commander was George Washington.
My home and my country to me were dear,
And I fought for both when the foe came near,
But now I will meet with a slight or sneer,
For I'm nothing but a plain old soldier.

Chorus
Nothing but a plain old soldier
An old revolutionary soldier,
But I've handled a gun where noble deeds were done,
For the name of my commander was George Washington.

The friends I loved the best have departed,
The days of my early joys have gone,
And the voices once dear and familiar to my ear,
Have faded from the scenes of the earth one by one.
The tomb and the battle have laid them low,
And they roam no more where the bright streams flow,
I'm longing to join them and soon must go,
For I'm nothing but a plain old soldier.

Again the battle song is resounding
And who'll bring the trouble to an end?
The union will pout and secession ever shout
But none can tell us now which will yield or bend.
You've had many generals from over the land,
You've tried one by one and you're still at a stand,
But when I took the field we had one in command,
Yet I'm nothing but a plain old soldier.


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