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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 3. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 150 (search)
not be a mark; And then they did put out to sea, (though here there seems a hitch, For what could they expect to see when the night was black as pitch?) But they somehow ‘scaped the Union ships, and hoped on some fine day To land in Europe and to “blow” about the C. S. A. They safely got to Cuba, and landed in Havana; Described the power and glory of New Orleans and Savannah; Declared that running the blockade was a thing by no means hard, And boasted of the victories won by their valiant Beauregard: Davis's skill in government could never be surpassed-- The amazing strokes of genius by which he cash amassed; Foreign bankers would acknowledge ere a month had passed away, That the true financial paradise was in the C. S. A. * * * * * * Some days are passed, and pleasantly, upon Bermuda's Isle, The sun is shining bright and fair, and Nature seems to smile: The breezes waved the British flag that fluttered o'er the “Trent,” And the ripples rose to lave her sides as proudly on she went
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 3. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 251 (search)
ne of searching neutrals affords the greatest mirth-- To the Southrons; but the Yankees will ever hate the fame Which gave to Wilkes and Fairfax their never-dying name. Throughout the North their Captain Wilkes received his meed of praise, For doing — in these civilized — the deeds of darker days; But England's guns will thunder along the Yankee coast, And show the abolitionists too soon they made their boast. Then while Old England's cannon are booming on the sea, Our Johnston, Smith, and Beauregard, dear Maryland will free, And Johnston in Kentucky will whip the Yankees too, And start them to the lively tune of “Yankee Doodle-doo.” Then down at Pensacola, where the game is always “Bragg,” The “Stars and Stripes” will be pulled down, and in the dust be dragged; Fort Pickens can't withstand us, when Braxton is the cry, And there you'll see the Yankees, with their usual speed will fly. On the coast of Dixie's kingdom there are batteries made by Lee, And covered up with cotton,
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 3. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 253 (search)
asn't king. chorus — So wait for the wagon, &c. Old Lincoln and his Congressmen, With Seward by his side, Put old Scott in the wagon, Just for to take a ride. McDowell was the driver; To cross Bull Run he tried, But there he left the wagon, For Beauregard to ride. chorus — Wait for the wagon, &c. Manassas was the battle-ground; The field was fair and wide; The Yankees thought they'd whip us out, And on to Richmond ride; But when they met our “Dixie” boys, Their danger they espied; They wheeled awas fair and wide; The Yankees thought they'd whip us out, And on to Richmond ride; But when they met our “Dixie” boys, Their danger they espied; They wheeled about for Washington, And didn't wait to ride. chorus — So wait for the wagon, &c. Brave Beauregard-God bless him!-- Led legions in his stead, While Johnson seized the colors, And waved them o'er his head. To rising generations, With pleasure we will tell How bravely our Fisher And gallant Johnson fell. chorus — So wait for
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 3. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 255 (search)
its people a heritage of shame; You have murdered its glory and pride at a blow, And filled its proud cities with wailing and woe. The avenger is coming. O'er your dark future path Is brooding a storm of terrible wrath. The wrongs of oppression, the blood of the slain, The pleadings of widows for their lost ones again, The cries of the poor, all starving for bread, The curse of the nation, overwhelming with dread, Shall break like an avalanche full on your head. “Then woe to the day when Beauregard comes With his fiery legions from their Southern homes; When the roar of their guns shall fill you with fright, And the flash of their sabres shall gleam on your sight. Ah! then shall you sink to a merciless tomb, And the shouts of their triumph shall herald your doom. Your fate is now writ by the hand on the wall: O'er your house on the sand the bleak tempest shall fall, And sweep you away in its ruins to hell;-- I have finished my mission. Farewell-farewell! “ Thus saying, he left in
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 3. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 256 (search)
89. song — land of King cotton. by Jo Augustine Signaigo. air--Red, White, and Blue. Oh! Dixie, the land of King Cotton, The home of the brave and the free; A nation by Freedom begotten, The terror of despots to be; Wherever thy banner is streaming, Base tyranny quails at thy feet, And Liberty's sunlight is beaming In splendor of majesty sweet. chorus. Three cheers for our army so true! Three cheers for Price, Johnston, and Lee, Beauregard and our Davis forever! The pride of the brave and the free! When Liberty sounds her war-rattle, Demanding her right and her due, The first land who rallies to battle Is Dixie, the shrine of the true; Thick as leaves of the forest in summer, Her brave sons will rise on each plain; And then strike, until each vandal comer Lies dead on the soil he would stain. chorus--Three cheers for our army, &c. May the names of the dead that we cherish, Fill memory's cup to the brim; May the laurels they've won never perish, Nor “star of their glory grow dim