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New Orleans (Louisiana, United States) (search for this): chapter 203
ott; Perhaps not better, but full as well; Rather than live, so I would be shot, Picked of my feathers, boiled in a pot; Rather would list to my funeral knell, Be dead and be buried and go to — well, Send me to climes where orange trees bloom, There let me rest my wearied head, Fan my feathers with sweet perfume; Let music of honest contentment come, With manly hearts I find my home, And sleep in their shade when dead. Bird of the broad and sweeping wing, They have swept your nest with a dirty broom, Tarnished your glorious covering; From Tammany Hall I hear them sing, Weed and Morgan and Governor King, Vanderbilt, Law, Beecher, and Tyng-- Priest and pirate, together they come. Arise, proud Eagle I thy bird of fame I Phoenix-like soar from thy burning nest; Not wrong nor oppression thy spirit can tame, Or drive away truth from thy noble breast. Come, proud Eagle! our old bird, come! And live in an honest Southern home. Charles Dullness. St. Charles Hotel, New-Orleans, May 10, 1861
Beecher (search for this): chapter 203
ott; Perhaps not better, but full as well; Rather than live, so I would be shot, Picked of my feathers, boiled in a pot; Rather would list to my funeral knell, Be dead and be buried and go to — well, Send me to climes where orange trees bloom, There let me rest my wearied head, Fan my feathers with sweet perfume; Let music of honest contentment come, With manly hearts I find my home, And sleep in their shade when dead. Bird of the broad and sweeping wing, They have swept your nest with a dirty broom, Tarnished your glorious covering; From Tammany Hall I hear them sing, Weed and Morgan and Governor King, Vanderbilt, Law, Beecher, and Tyng-- Priest and pirate, together they come. Arise, proud Eagle I thy bird of fame I Phoenix-like soar from thy burning nest; Not wrong nor oppression thy spirit can tame, Or drive away truth from thy noble breast. Come, proud Eagle! our old bird, come! And live in an honest Southern home. Charles Dullness. St. Charles Hotel, New-Orleans, May 10, 1861
William I. Seward (search for this): chapter 203
gle was sick. He'd had too much physic of Abolition; The blood in his veins was hot and thick, The Eagle's pulse was fevered and quick, A thousand ways his feathers would stick, He was in a sad condition. They called a doctor to cure the bird: There came with the doctor General Scott. The voice of Sir Fuss and Feathers was heard-- He could not set by without saying a word, As the ire of the gallant old soldier was stirred! He proposed that the bird be shot. Loud rose the voice of Greeley and Seward! Many their words — we're sorry to lose them-- They told how the Eagle might be cured, Like a Duffield ham — and his life insured. Raymond and Bennett added a word, And they hid him in Abraham's bosom. Poor old Eagle, of Stars and Stripes, There was a nest for you, I said; At the very thought my eyes I wipe, Your talons I see take a firmer gripe. The stars fade away, but you feel the stripe-- Poor Eagle hangs down his head. Better the fate proposed by Scott; Perhaps not better, but full as w
John Morgan (search for this): chapter 203
cott; Perhaps not better, but full as well; Rather than live, so I would be shot, Picked of my feathers, boiled in a pot; Rather would list to my funeral knell, Be dead and be buried and go to — well, Send me to climes where orange trees bloom, There let me rest my wearied head, Fan my feathers with sweet perfume; Let music of honest contentment come, With manly hearts I find my home, And sleep in their shade when dead. Bird of the broad and sweeping wing, They have swept your nest with a dirty broom, Tarnished your glorious covering; From Tammany Hall I hear them sing, Weed and Morgan and Governor King, Vanderbilt, Law, Beecher, and Tyng-- Priest and pirate, together they come. Arise, proud Eagle I thy bird of fame I Phoenix-like soar from thy burning nest; Not wrong nor oppression thy spirit can tame, Or drive away truth from thy noble breast. Come, proud Eagle! our old bird, come! And live in an honest Southern home. Charles Dullness. St. Charles Hotel, New-Orleans, May 10, 1861
Tyng (search for this): chapter 203
cott; Perhaps not better, but full as well; Rather than live, so I would be shot, Picked of my feathers, boiled in a pot; Rather would list to my funeral knell, Be dead and be buried and go to — well, Send me to climes where orange trees bloom, There let me rest my wearied head, Fan my feathers with sweet perfume; Let music of honest contentment come, With manly hearts I find my home, And sleep in their shade when dead. Bird of the broad and sweeping wing, They have swept your nest with a dirty broom, Tarnished your glorious covering; From Tammany Hall I hear them sing, Weed and Morgan and Governor King, Vanderbilt, Law, Beecher, and Tyng-- Priest and pirate, together they come. Arise, proud Eagle I thy bird of fame I Phoenix-like soar from thy burning nest; Not wrong nor oppression thy spirit can tame, Or drive away truth from thy noble breast. Come, proud Eagle! our old bird, come! And live in an honest Southern home. Charles Dullness. St. Charles Hotel, New-Orleans, May 10, 1861
Greeley (search for this): chapter 203
le. The Eagle was sick. He'd had too much physic of Abolition; The blood in his veins was hot and thick, The Eagle's pulse was fevered and quick, A thousand ways his feathers would stick, He was in a sad condition. They called a doctor to cure the bird: There came with the doctor General Scott. The voice of Sir Fuss and Feathers was heard-- He could not set by without saying a word, As the ire of the gallant old soldier was stirred! He proposed that the bird be shot. Loud rose the voice of Greeley and Seward! Many their words — we're sorry to lose them-- They told how the Eagle might be cured, Like a Duffield ham — and his life insured. Raymond and Bennett added a word, And they hid him in Abraham's bosom. Poor old Eagle, of Stars and Stripes, There was a nest for you, I said; At the very thought my eyes I wipe, Your talons I see take a firmer gripe. The stars fade away, but you feel the stripe-- Poor Eagle hangs down his head. Better the fate proposed by Scott; Perhaps not better, b
Charles Dullness (search for this): chapter 203
ott; Perhaps not better, but full as well; Rather than live, so I would be shot, Picked of my feathers, boiled in a pot; Rather would list to my funeral knell, Be dead and be buried and go to — well, Send me to climes where orange trees bloom, There let me rest my wearied head, Fan my feathers with sweet perfume; Let music of honest contentment come, With manly hearts I find my home, And sleep in their shade when dead. Bird of the broad and sweeping wing, They have swept your nest with a dirty broom, Tarnished your glorious covering; From Tammany Hall I hear them sing, Weed and Morgan and Governor King, Vanderbilt, Law, Beecher, and Tyng-- Priest and pirate, together they come. Arise, proud Eagle I thy bird of fame I Phoenix-like soar from thy burning nest; Not wrong nor oppression thy spirit can tame, Or drive away truth from thy noble breast. Come, proud Eagle! our old bird, come! And live in an honest Southern home. Charles Dullness. St. Charles Hotel, New-Orleans, May 10, 1861
Scott (search for this): chapter 203
oo much physic of Abolition; The blood in his veins was hot and thick, The Eagle's pulse was fevered and quick, A thousand ways his feathers would stick, He was in a sad condition. They called a doctor to cure the bird: There came with the doctor General Scott. The voice of Sir Fuss and Feathers was heard-- He could not set by without saying a word, As the ire of the gallant old soldier was stirred! He proposed that the bird be shot. Loud rose the voice of Greeley and Seward! Many their words — d Eagle, of Stars and Stripes, There was a nest for you, I said; At the very thought my eyes I wipe, Your talons I see take a firmer gripe. The stars fade away, but you feel the stripe-- Poor Eagle hangs down his head. Better the fate proposed by Scott; Perhaps not better, but full as well; Rather than live, so I would be shot, Picked of my feathers, boiled in a pot; Rather would list to my funeral knell, Be dead and be buried and go to — well, Send me to climes where orange trees bloom, There
Bennett (search for this): chapter 203
his feathers would stick, He was in a sad condition. They called a doctor to cure the bird: There came with the doctor General Scott. The voice of Sir Fuss and Feathers was heard-- He could not set by without saying a word, As the ire of the gallant old soldier was stirred! He proposed that the bird be shot. Loud rose the voice of Greeley and Seward! Many their words — we're sorry to lose them-- They told how the Eagle might be cured, Like a Duffield ham — and his life insured. Raymond and Bennett added a word, And they hid him in Abraham's bosom. Poor old Eagle, of Stars and Stripes, There was a nest for you, I said; At the very thought my eyes I wipe, Your talons I see take a firmer gripe. The stars fade away, but you feel the stripe-- Poor Eagle hangs down his head. Better the fate proposed by Scott; Perhaps not better, but full as well; Rather than live, so I would be shot, Picked of my feathers, boiled in a pot; Rather would list to my funeral knell, Be dead and be buried and go
Steve Weed (search for this): chapter 203
cott; Perhaps not better, but full as well; Rather than live, so I would be shot, Picked of my feathers, boiled in a pot; Rather would list to my funeral knell, Be dead and be buried and go to — well, Send me to climes where orange trees bloom, There let me rest my wearied head, Fan my feathers with sweet perfume; Let music of honest contentment come, With manly hearts I find my home, And sleep in their shade when dead. Bird of the broad and sweeping wing, They have swept your nest with a dirty broom, Tarnished your glorious covering; From Tammany Hall I hear them sing, Weed and Morgan and Governor King, Vanderbilt, Law, Beecher, and Tyng-- Priest and pirate, together they come. Arise, proud Eagle I thy bird of fame I Phoenix-like soar from thy burning nest; Not wrong nor oppression thy spirit can tame, Or drive away truth from thy noble breast. Come, proud Eagle! our old bird, come! And live in an honest Southern home. Charles Dullness. St. Charles Hotel, New-Orleans, May 10, 1861
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