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eir sticks. “Oh! tarry, Lord Lovell!” Sir Farragut cried. “Oh! tarry, Lord Lovell!” said he; “I rather think not,” Lord Lovell replied, “For I'm in a great hurry.” “I like the drinks at St. Charles's Hotel, But I never could bear strong Porter, Especially when it's served on the shell, Or mixed in an iron mortar.” “I reckon you're right,” Sir Farragut said, “I reckon you're right,” said he, “For if my Porter should fly to your head, A terrible smash there'd be.” Oh! a wonder itPorter should fly to your head, A terrible smash there'd be.” Oh! a wonder it was to see them run, A wonderful thing to see, And the Yankees sailed up without shooting a gun, And captured their great citie. Lord Lovell kept running all day and night, Lord Lovell a-running kept he, For he swore he couldn't abide the sight Of the gun of a live Yankee. When Lord Lovell's life was brought to a close By a sharp-shooting Yankee gunner, From his head there sprouted a red, red nose,
death. Crushing through the fortress' wall, Dealing wounds and death to all; Like an avalanche they fall Amid the rebel camp. Treason shrieks its dying yell, Loud the awful echoes swell, Solemn as a fun'ral knell, Along the river's shore. Gallant Porter's work is done, Farragut's is now begun: Lo! his noble vessels run To face the deadly guns! Through the serried lines they go, Face to face they brave the foe, While their booming broadsides glow Upon the river's tide. Dark and dreary was the nil 25, 1862. Failing to reduce them, [Forts Jackson and St. Philip,] after six days of incessant fire, Flag-Officer Farragut determined to attempt their passage with his whole fleet, except the part there — of under the immediate command of Capt. Porter, known as the mortar-fleet. On the morning of the twenty-fourth instant the fleet got under way, and twelve vessels, including the four sloops of war, ran the gauntlet of fire of the forts, and were safely above. Of the gallantry, courage, a
26. the Yankee tars at New-Orleans. Come all ye loyal mariners that battle wind and wave, Who guard the sacred honor of our glorious Stripes and Stars, Give three time three with loud huzzas for the bravest of the brave-- For Porter, Boggs, and Farragut, and our gallant Yankee tars! The forts belched forth their thunder, but we gave them gun for gun, As the morning light was breaking in the eastward, dusk and dim: On that day of fierce endeavor, ere the rising of the sun, The rebel fleet defiant stood, all iron-ribbed and grim. With courage in each sailor-breast, we vowed that awful morn, Before another sunset we would trail the traitor flag-- We would pay the cursed secession crew for all their taunt and scorn, And meet with Northern valor their Southern boast and brag. Through “Turtles,” “Rams,” and fire-ships, through plunging shot and shell, We fought their fleets and forts till the gallant work was done; With broadside upon broadside our sailors answered well, Till all their s
32. the army of the free. Division song of Porter's Division, army of the Potomac. Words by Frank H. Norton. air--Beonny Havens. In the army of the Union we are marching in the van, And will do the work before us, if the bravest soldiers can; We will drive the rebel forces from their strongholds to the sea, And will live aremain the army of the free. We are the best Division, of a half a million souls, And only resting on our arms till the war-cry onward rolls; When our gallant General Porter calls, why, ready we shall be, To follow him forever, with the army of the free. chorus — The army of the free, the army of the free; We will follow him forevmy of the free, the army of the free; We have the finest generals in the army of the free. Though we live in winter-quarters now, we're waiting but the hour, When Porter's brave Division shall go forth in all its power; And when on the field of battle fighting we shall be, We'll show that we cannot disgrace the army of the free. c
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 5. (ed. Frank Moore), Traitorous and incendiary Legends. (search)
Traitorous and incendiary Legends. Richmond, April 22.--Yesterday morning the walls of the houses of Purcell, Ladd & Co., E. B. Spence & Co., Binford & Porter, the Powhatan House, and other conspicuous establishments about the town, were covered with incendiary and blasphemous writings, a verbatim copy of some of which we give below. The writing was in a fair, round, and deliberate hand, and all evidently performed by one and the same person — the writing in the various places named being the dust, In the Lord you vainly trust, For the Lord you fain would cheat With halcyon lips and Pluto's feet. The cry is still they come. Also a copy of the apparently favorite lines: Southern hearts are beating low. On Binford & Porter's west wall: On Yorktown Heights the cry is still they come. Change your bells into cannon, and charge with confe---, here the midnight scribe appears to have been interrupted in his work, most probably by the watchman on his way to ext
on the field, with Gen. French's reinforcing brigade drawn up in line of battle, on one side, with our broken columns of Pennsylvania Reserves, rallied for a last and desperate stand, and drawn up behind the brigade of General French--the firing ceased, and a strange quiet fell upon the scene. After a brief consultation among the Generals on the field, arrangements for the night were made, and all sought convenient spots for repose. Gen. McCall decided to seek the house which had been Gen. Porter's headquarters in the early part of the day, and, attended by an officer of his staff, Major Lewis, of the Pennsylvania artillery, started out in pursuit of it. It appears that they mistook the road in the darkness, and after riding nearly a mile, they came to a house which proved to be a hospital. They were met at the door by a young Assistant-Surgeon, who informed them that he had sixty wounded men there; that he belonged to the regular United States army, and that the rebel pickets we