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soldiers' and sailors'
TRUMPET SONG.
BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
The battle-drum's loud rattle is rending the
air,
The troopers all are mounted, their sabres are
bare; •
The guns are unlimbered, the bayonets shine,
Hark ! hark I 'tis the trumpet-call! wheel into
line!
Ta ra! ta ta ta !
Trum trum, tra ra ra ra !
Beat drums and blow trumpets !
Hurrah, boys, hurrah !
March onward, soldiers, onward, the strife is
begun,
Loud bellowing rolls the boom of the black-
throated gun ;
The rifles are cracking, the torn banners toss,
The sabres are clashing, the bayonets cross.
Ta ra, etc.
Down with the leaguing liars, the traitors to
their trust,
Who trampled the fair charter of Freedom in
dust!
They falter — they waver — they scatter — they
run—
The field is our own, and the battle is won!
Ta ra, etc.
God save our mighty people and prosper our
cause !
We're fighting for our nation, our land, and our
laws!
Though tyrants may hate us, their threats we
defy,
And drum-beat and trumpet shall peal our reply I
Ta ra! ta ta ta !
Beat drums and blow trumpets !
Trum trum, tra ra ra ra !
Hurrah, boys, hurrah !
PUT IT THROUGH.
Come Freemen of the land,
Come meet the last demand !
Here's a piece of work in hand ;
Put it through.
Here's a log across the way,
We have stumbled on all day,
Here's a ploughshare in the clay :
Put it through !
Here's a country that's half free,
And it waits for you and me,
To say what its fate shall be:
Put it through !
While one traitor thought remains,
While one spot its banner stains,
One link of all its chains :
Put it throusrh !
Hear our brothers in the field,
Steel your swords as theirs are steeled,
Learn to wield the arms they wield:
Put it through !
Lock the shop and lock the store,
Chalk this upon the door,
" We've enlisted for the War!"
Put it through!
For the birthrights yet unsold,
For the history yet untold,
For the future yet unrolled,
Put it through!
Lest our children point with shame,
On the father's dastard fame,
Who gave up a nation's name,
Put it through!
Father Abraham, hear us cry,
"We can follow, we can die."
Lead your children then, and try.
Put it through !
Here's a work of God half done,
Here's the kingdom of his Son,
With its triumphs just begun :
Put it through!
Father Abraham, that man thrives
Who with every weapon strives;
Use our twenty million lives !
Put it through !
'Tis to you the trust is given!
'Tis by you the bolt is drivep!
By the very God of Heaven,
Drive it through I
SOUTH-CAROLINA GENTLEMAN.
Air—{The Fine Old English Gentleman.
Down in a small Palmetto State the cuiious
ones may find,
A ripping, tearing gentleman, of an uncommon
kind,
A staggering, swaggering sort of chap, who
takes his whiskey straight,
And frequently condemns bis eyes to that ulti¬
mate vengeance which a clergyman of
high standing has assured must be a
sinner's fate.
This South-Carolina gentleman, one of the pre¬
sent time.
You trace his genealogy, and not far back you'll
see,
A most undoubted octoroon, or mayhap a mus-
tee,
And if you note the "shaggy locks that cluster
on his brow,
You'll find that every other hair is varied with
a kink that seldom denotes pure Cauca¬
sian blood, but on the contrary, betrays
an admixture with a race not particu¬
larly popular now.
This South-Carolina Gentleman, one of the pre¬
sent time.
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