Songs and Ballads of the Southern People: 1861-1865. Various
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Название: Songs and Ballads of the Southern People: 1861-1865

Автор: Various

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Документальная литература

Серия:

isbn: 4064066101244

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ Sure, we have as a nation sinned— Let every heart its folly own, And sackcloth, as a girdle, bind, And mourn our glorious Union gone! Sisters, farewell! You know not half The pain your pride, injustice, give; You spurn our cause, and lightly laugh, And hope no more the wrong shall live. New Orleans Delta.

      

      SOUTHERN SONG OF FREEDOM.

      Air—“The Minstrel’s Return.”

A nation has sprung into life Beneath the bright Cross of the South; And now a loud call to the strife Rings out from the shrill bugle’s mouth. They gather from morass and mountain, They gather from prairie and mart, To drink, at young Liberty’s fountain, The nectar that kindles the heart. Then, hail to the land of the pine! The home of the noble and free; A palmetto wreath we’ll entwine Round the altar of young Liberty! Our flag, with its cluster of stars, Firm fixed in a field of pure blue, All shining through red and white bars, Now gallantly flutters in view. The stalwart and brave round it rally, They press to their lips every fold, While the hymn swells from hill and from valley, “Be, God, with our Volunteers bold.” Then, hail to the land of the pine! etc. The invaders rush down from the North, Our borders are black with their hordes; Like wolves for their victims they flock, While whetting their knives and their swords. Their watchword is “Booty and Beauty,” Their aim is to steal as they go; But Southrons act up to your duty, And lay the foul miscreants low. Then, hail to the land of the pine! etc. The God of our fathers looks down And blesses the cause of the just; His smile will the patriot crown Who tramples his chains in the dust. March, march Southrons! shoulder to shoulder, One heart-throb, one shout for the cause; Remember—the world’s a beholder, And your bayonets are fixed at your doors! Then, hail to the land of the pine! The home of the noble and free; A palmetto wreath we’ll entwine Round the altar of young Liberty. J. H. H.

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