Led on by negro-drivers, with curses long and loud,
With frenzied imprecations, with savage threats and sneers,
They welcomed to the city the Yankee Volunteers.
So furious grew the multitude, they rushed at them amain,
And a great storm of missiles came pouring like a rain.
Amid a thunderous clamor, such as mortal seldom hears,
They tried to cross the city, did the Yankee Volunteers.
The murderous storm of missiles laid many a soldier low,
Yet still these gallant hearts forbore to give the answering blow,
Till all the miscreants shouted, “They're nearly dead with fears;
We'll hurry up and finish these Yankee Volunteers.”
But, lo! the guns are levelled, and loud the volleys roar,
And, inch by inch, they fight their way through the streets of Baltimore;
Before them shrunk the traitors, above them rise the cheers,
As through the throng, a myriad strong, march on the Volunteers.
Hurrah, then, for the old Bay State that stood so well at bay!
Hurrah, for those who shed their blood, and gave their lives away!
For grand old Massachusetts, boys, let's give three rousing cheers!--
Three times three and a ti-ger for the Yankee Volunteers!