Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 1.
Frank Moore, Ed.

86. song of the Southern women.

Oh, Abraham Lincoln, we call thee to hark
To the song we are singing, we Joans of Arc;
While our brothers are bleeding, we fear not to bleed;
We'll face the Red Horror, should there be need.
By our brothers we'll stand on the terrible field;
By our brothers we'll stand, and we'll ask for no shield,
By our brothers we'll stand as a torch in the dark,
To shine on thy treachery,--we Joans of Arc.

Behold our free plumes of the wild eagle dark;
Behold them, and take our white brows for thy mark;
We fear not thy cannon, we heed not thy drum;
The deeper thy thunder, the stronger we come.
Is woman a coward? No, no, she is brave!
Oh, nothing but Love ever made her a slave;
In home's happy circle she's poetry's lark,
But threaten that home, and she's Joan of Arc.

Oh, Abraham Lincoln, we call thee to hark!
Thou Comet of Satan I thou Boast of the Dark!
Take off thy red shadow from Washington's land--
Back! back! for thy footstep is slavery's brand.
Future-eyed Prophecy cries to thee, DowN!
For she sees on thy forehead the hope of a crown;
The fire that sleeps in our Southern eyes dark,
Would lighten in battle — we're Joans of Arc.