Part 2

Music by ARMAND.

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

The shades of night were falling fast, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, The bugler blows that well-known blast Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, No matter should it rain or snow, That bugler he is bound to blow.

CHORUS--Up--i--de--i--de--i--di, U--pi--de, u--pi--de, U--pi--de--i--de--i--di, Up--i--de--i--di, U--pi--de--i--de--i--di, U--pi--de--u--pi--di, U--pi--de--i--de--i--di.

He saw, as in their bunks they lay, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, How soldiers spent the dawning day, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, "There's too much comfort there," said he, "And so I'll blow the 'Reveille.'" CHORUS.

In nice log huts he saw the light, Of cabin fires, warm and bright, The sight afforded him no heat, And so he sounded the "Retreat."

Upon the fire he saw a pot, Of sav'ry viands smoking hot, Said he, "they shan't enjoy that stew," Then "Boots and saddles" loudly blew.

They scarce their half cooked meal begin, Ere orderly cries out "Fall in," Then off they march thro' mud and rain, P'raps only to march back again.

But soldiers, you were made to fight, To starve all day, and watch all night, And should you chance get bread and meat, That bugler will not let you eat.

Oh hasten then, that glorious day, When buglers shall no longer play, When we through peace shall be set free, From "Tattoo," "Taps," and "Reveille."

ADDRESS OF THE WOMEN TO THE SOUTHERN TROOPS.

By MRS. J. T. H. CROSS.

_Air--"Bruce's Address."_

Southern men, unsheathe the sword, Inland and along the board; Backward drive the Northern horde-- Rush to victory!

Let your banners kiss the sky, Be "The right" your battle cry! Be the God of battles nigh-- Crown you in the fight!

Pressing back the tears that start, We behold your hosts depart: Saying, with heroic heart, Clothe your arms with might!

Lower the proud oppressor's crest! Or, if he should prove the best, Dead, not dishonored, rest On the field of blood!

We--may God so give us grace!-- Sons will rear, to take your place; Strong the foeman's steel to face-- Strong in heart and hand!

Death your serried ranks may sweep, Proud shall be the tears we weep, Sacredly our hearts shall keep Memory of your deeds!

Though our land be left forlorn, Spirit of the Southern-born, Northern rage shall laugh to scorn-- Northern hosts defy.

He that last is doomed to die Shall, with his expiring sigh, Send aloft the battle-cry, "God defend the right!"

RALLYING SONG OF THE VIRGINIANS.

By SUSAN A. TALLY.

_Air--"Scots, Wha hae wi' Wallace bled."_

Now rouse ye, gallant comrades all, And ready stand, in war's array,-- Virginia sounds her battle call, And gladly we obey. Our hands upon our trusty swords, Our hearts with courage beating high-- We'll fight as once our fathers fought, To conquer or to die!

Adieu, awhile, to loving eyes, And lips that breathe our names in prayer; To them our holiest thoughts be given, For them our swords we bare! Yet linger not when honor calls, Nor breathe one sad, regretful sigh,-- Defying fate, for love we'll live, Or for our country die!

No tyrant hand shall ever dare Our sacred Southern homes despoil, No tyrant foot shall e'er invade Our free Virginia soil. Lo! from her lofty mountain peaks, To plains that skirt the Southern seas, We fling her banner to the winds, Her motto on the breeze!

We hear the roll of stormy drums, We hear the trumpet's call afar! Now forward, gallant comrades all, To swell the ranks of war; Uplift on high our battle cry, When fiercest rolls the bloody fight, "Virginia! for the Southern cause, And God defend the right!"

POP GOES THE WEASEL.

From "JACK MORGAN SONGSTER."

King Abraham is very sick, Old Scott has got the measles, Manassas we have now at last-- Pop goes the weasel!

All around the cobbler's house The monkey chased the people, And after them in double haste, Pop goes the weasel!

When the night walks in, as black as a sheep, And the hen on her eggs was fast asleep, When into her nest with a serpent's creep, Pop goes the weasel!

Of all the dance that ever was planned, To galvanize the heel and the hand, There's none that moves so gay and grand, As--pop goes the weasel.

THE MOTHER'S FAREWELL.

_Air--"Jeannette and Jeannot."_

From "JACK MORGAN SONGSTER."

You are going to leave me, darling, Your country's foes to fight, And though I grieve, I murmur not, I know we're in the right. Here's your father's sword and rifle, Emulate him in the fight; Let no coward stain be on your name, That always has shone bright.

Then farewell, my loved one, May a widow'd mother's prayer, Still shield thy head in battle, And God keep thee in His care; Then use your sword and rifle well, Ne'er falter in the strife-- You fight for home and freedom, For honor and for life.

And when the "Stars and Bars" Float in triumph o'er each band That has driven the invaders back, Who dared pollute our land, Then come back to me with honor, And a mother's hand shall place The laurel wreath your country gives Each victor's brow to grace.

WE SWEAR.

_Louisville Courier._

Kneel, ye Southrons, kneel and swear, On your bleeding country's altar, All the tyrants' rage to dare, E'en the cursed tyrants' halter, We swear, we swear, we swear!

Swear by all the shining stars, Swear in blunt old Anglo-Saxon, To defend the stars and bars Hallowed by the blood of Jackson, We swear, etc.

Swear by all the noble deeds, By heroic valor prompted; Swear that while our country bleeds, Gleaming blades shall not be wanted, We swear, etc.

Swear our country shall be free; Submit to subjugation? Never! Swear the stars and bars shall be Our insignia forever, We swear, etc.

FREEDOM'S NEW BANNER.

By DAN. E. TOWNSEND, _Richmond Dispatch_, June 30, 1862.

When clouds of oppression o'ershaded The banner that liberty bore, Bright stars from the galaxy faded, The day of its splendor was o'er; Those stars, in a fresh constellation, A sky in the South now adorn; And blazon throughout all creation That freedom's new banner is born.

For the land that's richest in beauty, The homestead of justice and right, Whose sons are the foremost in duty, Whose daughters are peerless and bright: For brave hearts in battle defending The honor and truth of our cause; For our trust in victorious ending, The welkin rings out its huzzas.

Our lives and our fortunes enlisted, Our honor, our hopes, and our prayers, Upholding the act that resisted The wrong of a series of years. May the Father in Heaven approve us, In this the most sacred of wars; May his hand, to protect, be above us While cheering the Stars and the Bars.

THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG.

By HARRY MACARTHY.

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

We are a band of brothers, and native to the soil, Fighting for our liberty, with treasure, blood and toil; And when our rights were threatened, the cry rose near and far, Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag, that bears a Single Star!

CHORUS.--Hurrah! Hurrah! for Southern Rights, Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star!

As long as the Union was faithful to her trust, Like friends and like brethren kind were we and just; But now when Northern treachery attempts our rights to mar, We hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star. CHORUS.

First, gallant South Carolina nobly made the stand; Then came Alabama, who took her by the hand; Next, quickly Mississippi, Georgia and Florida, All raised on high the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star. CHORUS.

Ye men of valor, gather round the banner of the right, Texas and fair Louisiana, join us in the fight; Davis, our loved President, and Stephens, statesman rare, Now rally round the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star. CHORUS.

And here's to brave Virginia! the Old Dominion State, With the young Confederacy at length has link'd her fate; Impelled by her example, now other States prepare, To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star. CHORUS.

Then cheer, boys, raise the joyous shout, For Arkansas and North Carolina now have both gone out; And let another rousing cheer for Tennessee be given, The Single Star of the Bonnie Blue Flag has grown to be Eleven. CHORUS.

Then here's to our Confederacy, strong we are and brave, Like patriots of old, we'll fight our heritage to save; And rather than submit to shame, to die we would prefer, So cheer for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star.

CHORUS.--Hurrah! Hurrah! for Southern Rights, Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Bonnie Blue Flag has gained the Eleventh Star!

"OH, HE'S NOTHING BUT A SOLDIER."

Oh, he's nothing but a soldier; he's coming here to-night, For I saw him pass this morning, with his uniform so bright; He was coming in from picket, whilst he sang a sweet refrain, And he kissed his hand at some one, peeping through the window pane.

Ah! he rode no dashing charger, with black and flowing mane, But his bayonet glistened brightly, as the sun lit up the plain; No waving plume or feather flashed its crimson in the light, He belongs to the light infantry, and came to the war to fight.

Oh, he's nothing but a soldier, his trust is in his sword, To carve his way to glory through the servile Yankee horde; No pompous pageant heralds him, no sycophants attend; In his belt you see his body guard, his tried and trusty friend.

Oh, he's nothing but a soldier, yet his eyes are very fine, And I sometimes think, when passing, they're peeping into mine; Though he's nothing but a soldier--come, let me be discreet-- Yet really for a soldier, his toilet's very neat.

He has been again to see us, the gentleman in gray, He's called to see us often, our house is on his way; Ofttimes he sadly seeks the shade of yonder grove of trees, I watched him once--this soldier--I saw him on his knees.

Oh, he's nothing but a soldier, but this I know full well. He has a heart of softness, where tender virtues dwell; For once when we were talking, and no one else was near, I saw him very plainly try to hide a starting tear.

Ah! he's nothing but a soldier; but then its very queer. Whenever he is absent I'd much rather have him near; He's gone to meet the foeman, to stay his bloody track, O Heaven! shield the soldier; O God! let him come back.

SOUTHERN WAR-CRY.

_Air--"Scots, wha hae."_

Countrymen of Washington! Countrymen of Jefferson! By old Hick'ry oft led on To death or victory!

Sons of men who fought and bled, Whose blood for you was freely shed, Where Marion charged and Sumpter led, For freeman's rights!

From the Cowpens' glorious way, Southron valor led the fray To Yorktown's eventful day, First we were free!

At New Orleans we met the foe; Oppressors fell at every blow; There we laid the usurper low, For maids and wives!

Who on Palo Alto's day, 'Mid fire and hail at Monterey, At Buena Vista, led the way? "Rough-and-Ready."

Southrons all; at Freedom's call, For our homes united all, Freemen live, or freemen fall! Death or liberty!

DIXIE'S LAND.

_As sung by the Confederate Soldier._

Away down South in de fields of cotton, Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom; Look away, look away, Look away, look away. Den 'way down South in de fields of cotton, Vinegar shoes and paper stockings; Look away, look away, Look away, look away. Den I wish I was in Dixie's Land, Oh--oh! Oh--oh! In Dixie's land I'll take my stand, And live and die in Dixie's Land, Away, away, away, Away down South in Dixie.

Pork and cabbage in de pot, It goes in cold and comes out hot; Look away, look away, Look away, look away. Vinegar put right on red beet, It makes them always fit to eat; Look away, look away, Look away, look away. Den I wish I was in Dixie's Land, Oh--oh! Oh--oh! In Dixie's land I'll take my stand, And live and die in Dixie's Land, Away, away, away, Away down South in Dixie.

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF LIEUT.-COL. CH. B. DREUX.

By JAMES R. RANDALL.

Permission of HENRI WEHRMAN, _New Orleans, La._

Weep, Louisiana, weep! thy gallant dead Weave the green laurel o'er the undaunted head! Fling thy bright banner o'er the breast which bled Defending thee! Weep, weep, Imperial City, deep and wild! Weep for thy martyred and heroic child, The young, the brave, the free, the undefiled, Ah, weep for him. Lo! lo! the wail surgeth from embatteled bands, By Yorktown's plains and Pensacola's sands, Re-echoing to the golden sugar lands, Adieu! Adieu!

The death of honor was the death he craved, To die where weapons clashed and pennons waved, To welcome Freedom o'er the opening impetuous grave, And live for aye! His blood had too much lightning to be still, His spirit was the torrent, not the rill, The gods have loved him, and the Eternal Hill Is his at last! He died while yet his chainless eye could roll, Flashing the conflagrations of his soul, The rose and mirror of the bold Creole, He sleepeth well.

Lament, lone mother, for his early fate, But, bear thy burden with a hope elate, For thou hast shrined thy jewels in the state, A priceless boon! And thou, sad wife, thy sacred tears belong To the untarnished and immortal throng, For he shall fire the poet's heart and song, In thrilling strains. And the fair virgins of our sunny clime, Shall wed their music to the minstrel's rhyme, Making his fame melodious for all time; It cannot die.

BULL RUN.

A PARODY.

At Bull Run, when the sun was low, Each Southern face grew pale as snow, While loud as jackdaws rose the crow Of Yankees boasting terribly!

But Bull Run saw another sight, When, at the deepening shades of night, Toward Fairfax Court House rose the flight Of Yankees running rapidly.

Then broke each corps with terror riven, Then rushed the steeds from battle driven, For men of battery Number Seven Forsook their Red Artillery!

Still on McDowell's farthest left, The roar of cannon strikes one deaf, Where furious Abe and fiery Jeff Contend for death or victory.

The panic thickens--off, ye brave! Throw down your arms! your bacon save! Waive Washington, all scruples waive, And fly, with all your chivalry!

HURRAH!

By a MISSISSIPPIAN.--_Mobile Register._

Hurrah! for the Southern Confederate State, With her banner of white, red, and blue; Hurrah! for her daughters, the fairest on earth, And her sons, ever loyal and true! Hurrah! and hurrah! for her brave volunteers, Enlisted for freedom or death; Hurrah! for Jeff. Davis, commander-in-chief, And three cheers for the Palmetto wreath! Hurrah! for each heart that is right in the cause; That cause we'll protect with our lives; Hurrah! for the first one who dies on the field, And hurrah! for each one who survives! Hurrah! for the South--shout hurrah! and hurrah! O'er her soil shall no tyrant have sway, In peace or in war we will ever be found "Invincible," now and for aye.

GATHERING SONG.

_Air--"Bonnie Blue Flag."_

By ANNIE C. KETCHUM.

Come, brothers! rally for the right! The bravest of the brave Sends forth her ringing battle-cry Beside the Atlantic wave! She leads the way in honor's path! Come, brothers, near and far, Come rally 'round the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star!

We've borne the Yankee trickery, The Yankee gibe and sneer, Till Yankee insolence and pride Know neither shame nor fear; But ready now, with shot and steel, Their brazen front to mar, We hoist aloft the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star!

Now Georgia marches to the front, And close beside her come Her sisters by the Mexique Sea, With pealing trump and drum! Till, answering back from hill and glen, The rallying cry afar, A NATION hoists the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star!

By every stone in Charleston Bay, By each beleaguered town, We swear to rest not, night nor day, But hunt the tyrants down! Till, bathed in valor's holy blood, The gazing world afar, Shall greet with shouts the Bonnie Blue Flag, That bears the cross and star!

A SOUTHERN SONG.

By MISS MARIA GRASON.

While crimson drops our hearthstones stain, And Northern despots forge our chain, O God! shall freemen strike in vain?

Shall tyrants desecrate the sod Our fathers hallowed with their blood, Or cowards tread where heroes trod?

The lowering tempest darkens round; And at the bugle's silvery sound The fiery war-horse spurns the ground.

The thunder of his iron tread Sweeps o'er the dying and the dead; The trembling earth is blushing red.

'Mid wreathing smoke, and flashing steel, And blazing cannons' deafening peal Our brave battalions charge and wheel.

The maiden sees her lover there! Far in the battle's lurid glare He stands, his only shield her prayer.

Oh, may that warrior in his pride Return with honor to her side, Or die as old Dentatus died!

QUEEN ANNE CO., MD.

A CONFEDERATE OFFICER TO HIS LADY LOVE.

MAJ. MCKNIGHT ("Asa Hartz"), A. A. G., General Loring's staff, while a prisoner of war, at Johnston's Island, wrote the following:

My love reposes on a rosewood frame-- A bunk have I; A couch of feathery down fills up the same-- Mine's straw, but dry; She sinks to sleep at night with scarce a sigh-- With waking eyes I watch the hours creep by.

My love her daily dinner takes in state-- And so do I(?); The richest viands flank her silver plate-- Coarse grub have I? Pure wines she sips at ease, her thirst to slake-- I pump my drink from Erie's limpid lake!

My love has all the world at will to roam-- Three acres I; She goes abroad or quiet sits at home-- So cannot I; Bright angels watch around her couch at night-- A Yank, with loaded gun, keeps me in sight.

A thousand weary miles do stretch between My love and I; To her, this wintry night, cold, calm, serene, I waft a sigh; And hope, with all my earnestness of soul, To-morrow's mail may bring me my parole!

There's hope ahead! We'll one day meet again, My love and I; We'll wipe away all tears of sorrow then-- Her love-lit eye, Will all my many troubles then beguile, And keep this wayward reb. from Johnston's Isle.

THE SOUTHERN MARSEILLAISE.

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

Ye men of Southern hearts and feeling, Arm! arm! your struggling country calls! Hear ye the guns now loudly pealing, From Sumpter's high embattled walls! Shall a fanatic horde in power Send forth a base and hireling band To desolate our happy land And make our Southern freemen cower?

CHORUS--To arms, to arms! each one, Th' sword unsheathe, and raise the gun, Then on, rush on, ye brave and free, To death and victory.

Now clouds of war begin to gather, And black and murky is our sky-- Shall we submit--no, never, never! Let death or freedom be our cry-- In Heaven's justice firm relying, We'll nobly struggle to be free, And bravely gain our liberty, Or die our Northern foes defying. CHORUS.

The peaceful homes of Texas burning, And Harper's Ferry's blood-stained soil, Proclaim how strong their hearts are yearning, For murder, pillage, crime and spoil. Shall we our feelings longer smother, And bear with patience yet our wrongs, Their jeers, their crimes, their taunts and thongs And greet them still as friend and brother? CHORUS.

Their tyranny we'll bear no longer, But burst asunder every tie, Although in number they are stronger, We will be free, or we will die! Too long the South has wept, bewailing, That falsehood's dagger Yankees wield, But freedom is our sword and shield, And all their arts are unavailing. CHORUS.

A SOUTHERN GATHERING SONG.

By L. VIRGINIA FRENCH.

_Air--"Hail Columbia."_

Sons of the South, beware the foe! Hark to the murmur, deep and low, Rolling up like the coming storm, Swelling up like the sounding storm, Hoarse as the hurricanes that brood In space's far infinitude! Minute guns of omen boom Through the future's folded gloom; Sounds prophetic fill the air, Heed the warning--and prepare! Watch! be wary--every hour Mark the foeman's gathering power-- Keep watch and ward upon his track And crush the rash invaders back!

Sons of the brave!--a barrier staunch Breasting the alien avalanche-- Manning the battlements of RIGHT; Up, for your _Country_, "_God and right_!" Form your battalions steadily, And strike for death or victory! Surging onward sweeps the wave, Serried columns of the brave, Banded 'neath the benison of Freedom's godlike Washington! Stand! but should the invading foe Aspire to lay your altars low, Charge on the tyrant ere he gain Your iron-arteried domain!

Sons of the brave! when tumult trod The tide of revolution--God Looked from His throne on "the things of time," And two new stars in the reign of time, He bade to burn in the azure dome-- The freeman's LOVE and the freeman's HOME! Holy of Holies! guard them well, Baffle the despot's secret spell, And let the chords of life be riven, Ere you yield those gifts of heaven! _Io paean!_ trumpet notes, Shake the air where our banner floats; _Io triumphe!_ still we see _The land of the South is the home of the free!_

CONFEDERATE LAND.

By H. H. STRAWBRIDGE.

States of the South! Confederate Land! Our foe has come--the hour is nigh; His bale-fires rise on every hand-- Rise as one man, to do or die! From mountain, vale, and prairie wide, From forest vast, and field, and glen, And crowded city, pour thy tide, Oh fervid South! Oh patriot men!

CHORUS--Up! old and young; the weak, be strong! Rise for the right,--hurl back the wrong, And foot to foot, and hand to hand, Strike for our own Confederate Land!