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72. the ballad of Cockey's field.

It was on Sunday's holy day,
     There came a fearful sound;
Five thousand hostile, armed men,
     Were marching on the town.

They were as far as Cockeysville;
     Five thousand in the van,
And with ten thousand more behind--
     ‘Twas thus the rumor ran.

The children cried, the women screamed--
     For scream they always will;
And did you ever know a fright
     Enough to keep them still?

And good folks in the churches met,
     Arose and went away,
As if, in such a din as this,
     It was no use to pray.

And sober folks, who'd lost their wits,
     Were running up and down
To see if they could buy, or beg,
     Some arms — beside their own.

Until, at last, some wiser head
     Suggested he would go
And see how many men there were,
     Or if it could be so;

And started off in hottest haste:
     The horse had caught the fire,
And flew along the old York road
     As if he could not tire!

And there he found two thousand men,
     Unarmed, in helpless plight;
They did not have a thing to eat--
     Had slept out-doors all night.

And so he rode up brave, and said:
     “What are you doing here?
Why did you come? What do you want?
     How many in the rear?

And so the Captain he replied,
     Most courteously to him:
”We stopped because the bridge was gone;
     We had to stop--or swim.

”We're going on to Washington,
     Because we have been sent;
We are unarmed; we have no food,
     Nor any base intent.

[53] ”But when “Old Abe” the war-note sounds,
     From East and West we come,
Armed and unarmed, the young, the old,
     The Vandal and the Hun.

”Hurrah for our old Stars and Stripes,
     Afloat, on ship or shore!
It never waved o'er coward heads;
     God guard it evermore!ldquo;

And so came back the messenger,
     As fleet as comes the wind;
The very horse half understood
     The load he left behind.

And then they called the fathers out,
     The fathers of the town,--
Wisdom has always dwelt with them
     From pagan Romans down;--

And they resolved, “No hostile foot
     Shall ever cross our soil;
That all should arm themselves, and keep
     Our fields and towns from spoil.

“We'll tear our railroads up a space;
     We'll burn our bridges down;
That no invading foe may harm
     Our old and stately town.”

And when defence was all arranged,
     All warlike plans were laid,
The softer counsels of the heart
     Stole upwards to the head.

“We'll send them something up to eat,
     Or all these famished men
Will not have strength enough to go
     Back to their homes again.”

And so great loads of all good things
     Went creaking up the road;
A sort of music in the wheels,
     A moral in the load.

Hurrah for South! Hurrah for North!
     Hurrah for our great land!
Three cheers for this old Brotherhood--
     The Brotherhood of Man!

Baltimore Co., Md., April 30, 1861.

--Baltimore Co. American.

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