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Page 38
But, Bessie! bless your dear old heart!
Those days are mostly done;
And now we must revive the art
Of shooting on the run!
If Doodle must be meddling, why,
There's only this to do--
Select the black spot in his eye,
And let the daylight through!
And if he doesn't like the way
That Bess presents the view,
He'll maybe change his mind, and stay
Where the good Doodles do!
Where Lincoln lives. The man, you know,
Who kissed the Testament;
To keep the Constitution? No!
_To keep the Government!_
We'll hunt for Lincoln, Bess! old tool,
And take him half and half;
We'll aim to _hit_ him, if a fool,
And _miss_ him, if a calf!
We'll teach these shot-gun boys the tricks
By which a war is won;
Especially how Seventy-six
Took Tories on the run.
Battle Hymn.
Charleston Mercury.
Lord of Hosts, that beholds us in battle, defending
The homes of our sires 'gainst the hosts of the foe,
Send us help on the wings of thy angels descending,
And shield from his terrors, and baffle his blow.
Warm the faith of our sons, till they flame as the iron,
Red-glowing from the fire-forge, kindled by zeal;
Make them forward to grapple the hordes that environ,
In the storm-rush of battle, through forests of steel!
Teach them, Lord, that the cause of their country makes glorious
The martyr who falls in the front of the fight;--
That the faith which is steadfast makes ever victorious
The arm which strikes boldly defending the right;--
That the zeal, which is roused by the wrongs of a nation,
Is a war-horse that sweeps o'er the field as his own;
And the Faith, which is winged by the soul's approbation,
Is a warrior, in proof, that can ne'er be o'erthrown.
Kentucky, She Is Sold
By J. R. Barrick, of Kentucky.
A tear for "the dark and bloody ground,"
For the land of hills and caves;
Her Kentons, Boones, and her Shelbys sleep
Where the vandals tread their graves;
A sigh for the loss of her honored fame,
Dear won in the days of old;
Her ship is manned by a foreign crew,
For Kentucky, she is sold.
The bones of her sons lie bleaching on
The plains of Tippecanoe,
On the field of Raisin her blood was shed,
As free as the summer's dew;
In Mexico her McRee and Clay
Were first of the brave and bold--
A change has been in her bosom wrought,
For Kentucky, she is sold.
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