Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 8.
Frank Moore, Ed.

[58] Say, do you think that Hooker — they call him “Fighten Joe” --
Who ‘fore the War Committee run down McClellan so--
Will he cross the Rappy-hannick, and carry out his schemes,
And take us down to Richmun, upon the river Jeems?

Why, when I left old Kaintuck, just eighteen months ago,
My main and sister Ruby both said I shouldn't go;
But, I ax'd 'em both, and Susan, to think of me in dreams,
For, I'se bound to go to Richmun, old Richmun. on the Jeems!

You know, through tribulation, we marched on, night and day,
Through woods, and mud, and dusty roads, and fighting in the fray;
By smoke-houses and chicken coops, and where the biler steems,
Which cooked our hard-earned rations tow'rd Richmun on the Jeems.

And, now we're going homeward — me and the other scamp,
Yet, far from old Kentucky, we are obleeged to tramp;
And him who's out of postage stamps, there's nobody esteems,
E'en though he's been in Richmun, and seed the river Jeems!

To hell with old Phiginny, and all her sacred sile!
She's made a heap of trouble, and kept it up a while;
And if she's helped herself right much, 'tis like to them sunbeams
The niggers squeeze from cucumbers, in Richmun on the Jeems!

--And then his boon companion convulsively turned o'er,
And, grunting an affirmative, straightway began to snore,
Oblivious to war's alarms or love's delightful themes,
Or to the fact that Richmond still stands on the Jeems.

Grow on, thou “sour apple-tree,” where Jeffy is to hang!
Rejoice, ye running contrabands, for this is your chebang!
No more you'll stem tobacco, thresh wheat, or drive the teams
Of rebels round the city-old Richmond on the Jeems.