Part 15

CHORUS.--They have gone from us forever, Aye, for evermore! We must win the crown immortal, Follow where they led before, Where the oriflamme is burning, On the starlit Eden shore.

Proudly, as our Southern forests, Meet the winter's shafts so keen; Time-defying memories cluster, Round our hearts in living green.

CHORUS.--They have gone from us forever, etc.

May our faltering voices mingle, In the angel-chanted psalm; May our earthly chaplets linger, By the bright celestial palm.

CHORUS.--They have gone from us forever, etc.

Crest to crest they bore our banner, Side by side they fell asleep; Hand in hand we scatter flowers, Heart to heart we kneel and weep.

CHORUS.--They have gone from us forever, etc.

When the May eternal dawneth At the living God's behest, We will quaff divine Nepenthe, We shall share the soldier's rest.

CHORUS.--Where the weary feet are resting, etc.

Where the shadows are uplifted, 'Neath the never-waning sun, Shout we Gloria in Excelsis! We have lost, but ye have won!

CHORUS.--Our hearts are yours forever, Aye, for evermore! Ye have won the crown immortal, And the cross of death is o'er, When the oriflamme is burning On the starlit Eden shore!

WEARIN' OF THE GRAY.

By TAR HEEL.

[The music of this song can be obtained of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston, Mass.]

Oh! Johnny, dear, and did you hear the news that's lately spread, That never more the Southern cross must rear its stately head; The "white and red's" forbid by law, so Northmen proudly say, Nor you nor I can e'er again be "Wearin' of the Gray!" And when we meet with strangers kind, who take us by the hand, Inquiring warmly of the South, our own beloved land, We're bound to tell the woeful truth, let cost whate'er it may, That some are threatened e'en with death, for "Wearin' of the Gray!"

Then since the color we must wear is of the hateful blue, The children of the sunny South must be to mem'ry true; Ah! take the cockade from their hats and tread it 'neath the feet, And still tho' bruis'd and mangled sad, 'twill speak a language sweet; And buried in our heart of hearts the precious words lie hid, Where oft they call the bitter tears to wet the drooping lid; But let them flow, they do us good thro' all the mournful day, While constant we do call to mind the "Wearin' of the Gray!"

And if at last our father's law be torn from Southland's heart, Her sons will take their household gods and far away depart; Rememb'ring still the whisper'd word, to weary wand'rers giv'n, That justice pure, and perfect rest, are found alone in heav'n. Then on some green and distant isle beneath the setting sun, We'll patient wait the coming time when life and earth are done, Nor even in the dying hour, while passing calm away, Can we forget or e'er regret the "Wearin' of the Gray!"

THE FADED GRAY JACKET.

By MRS. C. A. BALL.

Music by CHARLIE WARD.

Permission of the W. S. SHAW CO., Philadelphia.

Fold it up carefully, lay it aside, Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride; For dear must it be to our hearts evermore, The jacket of gray our loved soldier boy wore. Can we ever forget when he joined the brave band, Who rose in defense of our dear Southern land; And in his bright youth hurried on to the fray, How proudly he donned it, the jacket of gray?

CHORUS.--Fold it up carefully, lay it aside, Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride; For dear it must be to our hearts evermore, The jacket of gray our loved soldier boy wore.

His fond mother blessed him and looked up above, Commending to Heaven the child of her love; What anguish was hers, mortal tongue may not say, When he passed from her sight in the jacket of gray. But her country had called him, she would not repine, Though costly the sacrifice placed on its shrine; Her heart's dearest hopes on its altar she lay, When she sent out her boy, in his jacket of gray! CHORUS.

Months passed, and war's thunders rolled over the land, Unsheathed was the sword and lighted the brand; We heard in the distance the noise of the fray, And prayed for our boy in the jacket of gray. Ah! vain all--all vain were our prayers and our tears The glad shout of victory rang in our ears; But our treasured one on the cold battle-field lay, While the life blood oozed out on the jacket of gray. CHORUS.

His young comrades found him and tenderly bore His cold, lifeless form to his home by the shore; Oh! dark were our hearts on that terrible day, When we saw our dead boy in the jacket of gray. Ah! spotted, and tattered, and stained now with gore, Was the garment which once he so gracefully wore; We bitterly wept as we took it away, And replaced with death's white robes, the jacket of gray. CHORUS.

We laid him to rest in his cold, narrow bed, And graved on the marble, we placed o'er his head, As the proudest of tributes our sad hearts could pay, "He never disgraced the dear jacket of gray." Then fold it up carefully, lay it aside, Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride; For dear must it be to our hearts evermore, The jacket of gray our loved soldier boy wore. CHORUS.

I'M A GOOD OLD REBEL.

By J. R. T.

[The music of this song can be obtained of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston, Mass.]

O, I'm a good old rebel, Now that's just what I am, For this "Fair Land of Freedom" I do not care a damn; I'm glad I fit against it, I only wish we'd won, And I don't want no pardon For anything I done.

I hates the Constitution, This great Republic too, I hates the Freedman's Buro, In uniform of blue; I hates the nasty eagle, With all his bragg and fuss, The lyin', thievin' Yankees, I hates them wuss and wuss.

I hates the Yankee nation And everything they do, I hates the Declaration Of Independence, too; I hates the glorious Union-- 'Tis dripping with our blood-- I hates their striped banner, I fit it all I could.

Three hundred thousand Yankees Is stiff in Southern dust; We got three hundred thousand Before they conquered us; They died of Southern fever, And Southern steel and shot, I wish they was three million, Instead of what we got.

I followed old mas' Robert For four year near about, Got wounded in three places, And starved at Pint Lookout; I cotched the roomatism, A campin' in the snow, But I killed a chance o' Yankees, I'd like to kill some mo'.

I can't take up my musket And fight 'em now no more, But I ain't a-going to love 'em, Now that is sartin' sure; And I don't want no pardon, For what I was and am, I won't be reconstructed, And I don't care a damn.

TRUE TO THE GRAY.

By PEARL RIVERS.

I cannot listen to your words, the land is long and wide; Go seek some happy Northern girl to be your loving bride; My brothers they were soldiers--the youngest of the three Was slain while fighting by the side of gallant Fitzhugh Lee!

They left his body on the field (your side the day had won), A soldier spurned him with his foot--you might have been the one; My lover was a soldier--he belonged to Gordon's band; A sabre pierced his gallant heart--your's might have been the hand.

He reel'd and fell, but was not dead, a horseman spurr'd his steed And trampled on the dying brain--you may have done the deed; I hold no hatred in my heart, no cold, unrighteous pride, For many a gallant soldier fought upon the other side.

But still I cannot kiss the hand that smote my country sore, Nor love the foes that trampled down the colors that she bore; Between my heart and yours there rolls a deep and crimson tide-- My brother's and my lover's blood forbid me be your bride.

The girls who lov'd the boys in gray--the girls to country true, May ne'er in wedlock give their hands to those who wore the blue.

WE KNOW THAT WE WERE REBELS; OR, WHY CAN WE NOT BE BROTHERS?

By CLARENCE PRENTICE.

Why can we not be brothers? the battle now is o'er; We've laid our bruised arms on the field to take them up no more; We who have fought you hard and long, now overpower'd, stand As poor, defenseless prisoners in our own native land.

CHORUS.--We know that we were rebels, And we don't deny the name, We speak of that which we have done With grief, but not with shame!

But we have rights most sacred, by solemn compact bound, Seal'd by the blood that freely gush'd from many a ghastly wound; When Lee gave up his trusty sword, and his men laid down their arms, It was that they should live at home, secure from war's dire harms. CHORUS.

And surely, since we're now disarm'd, we are not to be dreaded; Our old chiefs, who on many fields our trusty columns headed, Are fast within an iron grasp, and manacled with chains, Perchance, 'twixt dreary walls to stay as long as life remains! CHORUS.

O shame upon the coward band who, in the conflict dire, Went not to battle for their cause, 'mid the ranks of steel and fire, Yet now, since all the fighting's done, are hourly heard to cry: "Down with the traitors! hang them all! each rebel dog shall die!" CHORUS.

We know that we were rebels, we don't deny the name, We speak of that which we have done with grief, but not with shame! And we never will acknowledge that the blood the South has spilt, Was shed defending what we deemed a cause of wrong and guilt. CHORUS.

WEARING OF THE GRAY.

Our cannons' mouths are dumb. No more our volleyed muskets peal, Nor gleams, to mark where squadrons rush, the light from flashing steel; No more our crossed and starry flags in gentle dalliance play With battle breeze, as when we fought, a wearing of the gray.

Our cause is lost! No more we fight 'gainst overwhelming power; All wearied are our limbs, and drenched with many a battle shower; We fain would rest! For want of strength we yield them up the day, And lower the flag so proudly borne while wearing of the gray.

Defeat is not dishonor! No! Of honor not bereft, We should thank God that in our breasts this priceless boon is left; And though we weep 'tis for those braves who stood in proud array Beneath our flag, and nobly died while wearing of the gray.

When in the ranks of war we stood, and faced the deadly hail, Our simple suits of gray composed our only coats of mail; And of those awful hours that marked the bloody battle day, In memory we'll still be seen a wearing of the gray.

O, should we reach that glorious place where waits the sparkling crown, For every one who for the right his soldier life lay down, God grant to us the privilege, upon that happy day, Of clasping hands with those who fell a wearing of the gray.

THE SWORD OF ROBERT LEE.

Words by MOINA.

Music by ARMAND.

[The music of this song can be procured of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston, Mass., owners of the copyright.]

Forth from its scabbard, pure and bright, Flashed the sword of Lee! Far in the front of the deadly fight, High o'er the brave, in the cause of right It's stainless sheen, like a beacon light, Led us to victory.

Out of its scabbard, when full long It slumbered peacefully-- Roused from its rest by the battle song, Shielding the feeble, smiting the strong, Guarding the right, and avenging the wrong-- Gleamed the sword of Lee!

Forth from its scabbard, high in air, Beneath Virginia's sky-- And they who saw it gleaming there, And knew who bore it, knelt to swear, That where that sword led they would dare To follow and to die.

Out of its scabbard! Never hand Waved sword from stain as free, Nor purer sword led braver band, Nor braver bled for a brighter land, Nor brighter land had a cause as grand, Nor cause a chief like Lee!

Forth from its scabbard! How we prayed, That sword might victor be! And when our triumph was delayed, And many a heart grew sore afraid, We still hoped on, while gleamed the blade Of noble Robert Lee!

Forth from its scabbard! All in vain! Forth flashed the sword of Lee! 'Tis shrouded now in its sheath again, It sleeps the sleep of our noble slain, Defeated, yet without a stain, Proudly and peacefully.

OFF WITH YOUR GRAY SUITS, BOYS!

By LIEUT. FALLIGANT, Savannah, Ga.

Off with gray suits, boys! Off with your rebel gear! It smacks too much of the cannon's peal, The lightning flash of your deadly steel, And fills our hearts with fear.

The color is like the smoke, That curled o'er your battle line; It calls to mind the yell that woke, When the dastard columns before you broke, And their dead wore your fatal sign!

Off with your starry wreaths, Ye who have led our van! For you 'twas the pledge of a glorious death, As we followed you over the glorious heath, When we whipped them man to man!

Down with the cross and stars! Too long has it waved on high; 'Tis covered all over with battle scars, But its gleam the hated banner mars-- 'Tis time to lay it by.

Down with the vows we had made! Down with each memory! Down with the thoughts of our noble dead! Down, down to the dust where their forms are laid, And down with liberty!

THE CONFEDERATE NOTE.[19]

By S. A. JONAS.

Representing nothing on God's earth now, And naught in the water below it, As a pledge of a nation that's dead and gone, Keep it, dear Captain, and show it. Show it to those that will lend an ear To the tale this paper can tell, Of liberty born, of the patriot's dream, Of a storm-cradled nation that fell.

Too poor to possess the precious ore, And too much a stranger to borrow, We issue to-day our "promise to pay," And hope to redeem on the morrow. Days rolled by, and weeks became years, But our coffers were empty still; Coin was so rare that the treasurer quakes, If a dollar should drop in the till.

But the faith that was in us was strong indeed, And our poverty well we discerned, And these little checks represented the pay That our suffering veterans earned. We knew it had hardly a value in gold, Yet as gold the soldiers received it; It gazed in our eyes with a promise to pay, And each patriot soldier believed it.

But our boys thought little of price or pay, Or of bills that were over-due; We knew if it bought our bread to-day, 'Twas the best our country could do. Keep it! it tells all our history over, From the birth of the dream to its last; Modest, and born of the angel Hope, Like our hope of success it passed.

THE CONQUERED BANNER.

By the Rev. J. A. RYAN, Catholic Priest of Knoxville, Diocese of Nashville, Tenn.

Music by A. E. BLACKMAR.

[The music of this song can be procured of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston, Mass., owners of the copyright.]

Furl that banner, for 'tis weary; Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary; Furl it, fold it, it is best; For there's not a man to wave it, And there's not a sword to save it, And there's not one left to lave it In the blood which heroes gave it; And its foes now scorn and brave it,-- Furl it, hide it, let it rest.

Take that banner down--'tis tattered, Broken is its staff and shattered, And the valiant hosts are scattered Over whom it floated high. Oh! 'tis hard for us to fold it, Hard to think there's none to hold it, Hard that those who once unrolled it Now must furl it with a sigh.

Furl that banner, furl it sadly-- Once ten thousands hailed it gladly, And ten thousands wildly, madly, Swore it should forever wave, Swore that foeman's sword could never Hearts like their's entwined dissever, 'Till that flag would float forever O'er their freedom or their grave.

Furl it! for the hands that grasped it, And the hearts that fondly clasped it, Cold and dead are lying low; And the banner, it is trailing While around it sounds the wailing Of its people in their woe. For, though conquered, they adore it, Love the cold, dead hands that bore it, Weep for those who fell before it, Pardon those who trailed and tore it, And oh! wildly they deplore it, Now to furl and fold it so.

Furl that banner! true 'tis gory, Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory, And 'twill live in song and story, Though its folds are in the dust; For its fame on brightest pages, Penned by poets and by sages, Shall go sounding down the ages, Furl its folds though now we must.

Furl that banner! softly, slowly, Treat it gently--it is holy-- For it droops above the dead; Touch it not, unfold it never; Let it droop there, furled forever, For its people's hopes are dead.

FOLD IT UP CAREFULLY.

A Reply to "The Conquered Banner," by SIR HENRY HOUGHTON, BART., of England.

Gallant nation, foiled by numbers, Say not that your hopes are fled; Keep that glorious flag which slumbers, One day to avenge your dead.

Keep it, widowed, sonless mothers, Keep it, sisters, mourning brothers, Furl it with an iron will; Furl it now, but--keep it still, Think not that its work is done.

Keep it 'till your children take it, Once again to hail and make it All their sires have bled and fought for, All their noble hearts have sought for, Bled and fought for all alone. All alone! aye, shame the story. Millions here deplore the stain, Shame, alas! for England's glory, Freedom called, and called in vain.

Furl that banner, sadly, slowly, Treat it gently, for 'tis holy: 'Till that day--yes, furl it sadly, Then once more unfurl it gladly-- Conquered banner--keep it still!

INDEX.

_INDEX TO TITLES._

A Confederate Officer to his Lady Love, 42

Address of the Women to the Southern Troops, 24

Alabama, 170

Allons Enfans, 4

All Quiet along the Potomac to-night, 62

An Old Texan's Appeal, 174

A North Carolina Call to Arms, 237

Another Yankee Doodle, 15

Arise! ye Sons of Free-Born Sires!, 175

A Southern Song, 41, 99

A Southern Woman's Song, 222

At Fort Pillow, 137

Awake! To arms in Texas, 166

Banks' Skedaddle, 164

Battle of the Mississippi, 102

Battle Song, 240

Battle Song of the Invaded, 57

Baylor's Partisan Rangers, 178

Bayou City Guards' Dixie, 143

Bayou City Guards' Song, 131

Bombardment and Battle of Galveston, 191

Bombardment of Vicksburg, 343

Boys! Keep Your Powder Dry, 130

Bull Run, 38

By the Banks of Red River, 300

Call All! Call All!, 14

Campaign Ballad, 155

Camp Douglas by the Lake, 306

Cannon Song, 77

Carolina, 124

Chivalrous C. S. A., 78

Confederate Land, 48

Confederate Song, 94

Dear Mother, I've Come Home to Die, 349

Death of Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston, 187

Death of Stonewall Jackson, 345

De Cotton Down in Dixie, 145

Dixie, 238

Dixie's Land, 36

Do they Miss Me in the Trenches, 129

Dutch Volunteer, 10

Duty and Defiance, 141

Elegy on the Death of Lieut.-Col. Ch. B. Dreux, 37

Flight of Doodles, 66

Fold it up Carefully, 375

For Bales, 112

Freedom's New Banner, 30

Gathering Song, 40

Gay and Happy, 177

General Lee at the Battle of the Wilderness, 224

General Tom Green, 194

God Bless our Southern Land, 188

God Save the South, 1

God Will Defend the Right, 264

Goober Peas, 74

Hard Times, 196

Here's Your Mule, 319

Hood's Old Brigade, 207

Hood's Texas Brigade, 228

Hurrah!, 39

I'm a Good Old Rebel, 260

I'm Thinking of the Soldier, 182

Imogen, 172

Independence Day, 65

In Memoriam, 311

I Remember the Hour When Sadly We Parted, 291

I Wish I was in Dixie's Land, 153

Jackson's Resignation, 232

Knitting for the Soldiers, 52

Ladies, To the Hospital, 116

Land of King Cotton, 68

Land of the South, 115

Lee at the Wilderness, 95

Little Giffin, 329

Missouri, 308

Morgans War Song, 110, 244

Mother! Is the Battle Over?, 236

My Heart's in Mississippi, 211

My Maryland, 276

My Noble Warrior Come!, 226

My Warrior Boy, 256

National Hymn, 247

New Red, White and Blue, 60

North Carolina's War Song, 80

No Surrender, 221

Off with your Gray Suits, Boys!, 369

Oh, No! He'll not Need Them Again, 309

O, Johnny Bull, My Jo, John, 109

Old Stonewall, 338

Only a Soldier, 333

On to Glory, 199

Our Braves in Virginia, 56

Our Country's Call, 76

Our Flag; or, the Origin of the Stars and Bars, 292

Our Glorious Flag, 159

Over the River, 241, 249

Patriotic Song, 55

Polk, 350

Pop goes the Weasel, 27

Pray, Maiden, Pray, 284

Private Maguire, 250

Pro Memora, 353

Rallying Song of the Virginians, 26

Reading the List, 86

Rebel is a Sacred Name, 71

Rebel Toasts; or, Drink it Down, 279

Richmond is a Hard Road to Travel, 268

Richmond on the James, 266

Riding a Raid, 315

Sabine Pass, 320

Short Rations; or The Corn-fed Army, 322

Soldier, I Stay to Pray for Thee, 150

Song, 262

Song for the South, 103

Song of Hooker's Picket, 218

Song of the Exile, 245

Song of the Privateer, 227

Song of the Snow, 59

Song of the South, 114

Song of the Southern Soldier, 104

Song of the Texas Rangers, 287

Southern Battle Song, 189

Southern Cross, 6

Southern Gathering Song, 46

Southern Marseillaise, 45

Southern Soldier Boy, 69

Southern Song, 252

Southern Song of Freedom, 12

Southern War Cry, 35

Southron's War Song, 51

Southron's Chant of Defiance, the, 8

Star of the West, the, 7

Stonewall Jackson, 251

Stonewall Jackson's Way, 200

Stonewall's Requiem, 328

Stuart, 331

Sweethearts and the War, 230

That Bugler, 22

The Band in the Pines, 255

The Banner Song, 83

The Bars and Stars, 88

The Battle of Galveston, 185

The Battle of Shiloh Hill, 326

The Battle Song of the South, 210

The Beloved Memory of Major-General Tom Green, 203

The Black Flag, 163

The Bonnie Blue Flag, 31

The Bonnie White Flag, 341

The Capture of Seventeen of Company H, 4th Texas Cavalry, 168

The Cavalier's Glee, 261

The Confederate Note, 370

The Confederate Oath, 142

The Contraband, 216

The Conquered Banner, 373

The Cotton Burner's Song, 214

The Countersign, 133

The Darlings at Home, 134

The Drummer Boy of Shiloh, 336

The Dying Soldier Boy, 106

The Faded Gray Jacket, 358

The Flag of the Southland, 198

The Funeral of Albert Sidney Johnston, 212

The Gallant Girl that Smote the Dastard Tory, Oh!, 281

The Homespun Dress, 81

The Horse Marines at Galveston, 180

The Hour Before Execution, 160

The Man of the Twelfth of May, 242

The Mother's Farewell, 28

The Navasota Volunteers, 294

The Officer's Funeral, 289

The Officers of Dixie, 301

The Poor Soldier, 340

The Rebel Band, 258

The Rebel's Dream, 352

The Sentinel's Dream of Home, 303

The Soldier's Amen, 318

The Soldier's Death, 290

The Soldier's Dream, 297

The Soldier's Farewell, 324

The Soldier's Mission, 149

The Soldier's Suit of Gray, 285

The South, 339

The Southern Banner, 108

The Southern Captive, 346

The Southern Flag, 91

The Southern Soldier Boy, 260

The South for Me, 123

The South our Country, 152

The Southron's Watchword, 272

The Stars and the Bars, 93

The Sword of Robert Lee, 367

The Texan Marseillaise, 100

The Toast of Morgan's Men, 317

The Volunteer, 85

The Volunteer; or, It is my Country's Call, 347

The Young Volunteer, 73

There's Life in the Old Land yet, 273

Three Cheers for our Jack Morgan, 282

To the Davis Guard, 120

True Heart Southrons, 317