54. songs of the rebels.
Burn the cotton.
Burn the cotton! burn the cotton!Let the solemn triumph rise,
Fanned by Freedom's breath, its white wing
Spreads her banner to the skies.
“Melt the bells” is but reechoed
O'er our valley's gathered pride,
Lay the cotton on the altar
Where our loved have nobly died.
Burn the cotton! burn the cotton!
Does this sacrifice compare
With the battle-field red-flowing,
With the brave hearts offered there?
They no more shall strike for Freedom,
Never worship at her shrine--
To hurl back the fell invader,
To avenge them — it is thine.
Burn the cotton! burn the cotton!
Down the Mississippi's tide
Let it thunder, till its valleys
Catch the echo, far and wide--
Frowning in its wrath, it rises,
Spreads its dark wing o'er the land,
Vetoes in its swelling fury,
Gain, to lure the robber band.
Burn the cotton! burn the cotton!
Pile the white fleece high and higher,
Till the heavens reflect the glory
Kindled by the patriot's fire.
This shall teach the haughty foeman,
Startle him too late, to find
Chains were never made for freemen,
Chains the Southern heart to bind.
Burn the cotton! burn the cotton!
Flaming sparks, instead of seed,
Shall be sown in death and terror
To the mongrel, Yankee breed,
And the crowns who nod attendance
On the treacherous Federal's lure,
Feel too late, the want and ruin,
Unjust favor cannot cure.
Burn the cotton! burn the cotton!
Let the record boldly stand;
Not a bale for “filthy lucre” --
All for Freedom to our land.
Burn the cotton! burn the cotton!
From its ashes there shall spring
Heralds of a new-born nation,
Claiming still that “Cotton's King!”
Memphis, Tenn., May 16, 1862.
