Chapter I: Remember the Hour When Sadly We Parted (2)

And yet, my heart is sore, love, to see thee weeping thus;
But mark me, there's no fear, love, for in Heaven is our trust;
And if the heavy drooping tear swells in my mournful eye,
It is that Northmen of our land should cause the battle-cry.
CHORUS.

Our rights have been usurp'd, dear, by Northmen of land;
Fanatics rais'd the cry, dear, politicians fired the brand;
The Southrons spurn the galling yoke, the tyrants' threats defy;
They find we've sons like sturdy oaks to raise the battle-cry.
CHORUS.

I knew you'd let me go, pet, I saw it in that tear,
To join the gallant men, pet, who never yet knew fear;
With Beauregard and Davis, we'll gain our cause or die;
Win battles like Manassas, and raise the battle-cry.
CHORUS.

DEAR MOTHER, I'VE COME HOME TO DIE.

By E. BOWERS.

Music by HENRY TUCKER.

Dear mother, I remember well
The parting kiss you gave me,
When merry rang the village bell--
My heart was full of joy and glee:
I did not dream that one short year,
Would crush the hopes that soared so high!
Oh, mother dear, draw near to me;
Dear mother, I've come home to die.

CHORUS.--Call sister, brother, to my side,
And take your soldier's last good-by.
Oh, mother dear, draw near to me;
Dear mother, I've come home to die.

Hark! Mother, 'tis the village bell,
I can no longer with thee stay;
My country calls to arms! to arms!
The foe advance in fierce array!
The vision's past--I feel that now,
For country I can only sigh.
Oh, mother dear, draw near to me:
Dear mother, I've come home to die.
CHORUS.

Dear mother, sister, brother, all,
One parting kiss--to all good-by:
Weep not, but clasp your hand in mine,
And let me like a soldier die!
I've met the foe upon the field,
Where hosts contending scorned to fly;
I fought for right--God bless you all--
Dear mother, I've come home to die.
CHORUS.

POLK.

By H. L. FLASH.

A flash from the edge of a hostile trench,
A puff of smoke, a roar,
Whose echo shall roll from Kennesaw hills,
To the farthermost Christian shore,
Proclaim to the world that the warrior-priest
Will battle for right no more.

And that for a cause which is sanctified,
By the blood of martyrs unknown--
A cause for which they gave their lives,
And for which he gave his own--
He kneels, a meek ambassador,
At the foot of the Father's throne.

And up to the courts of another world,
That angels alone have trod,
He lives away from the din and strife
Of this blood-besprinkled sod--
Crowned with the amaranthine wreath,
That is worn by the blest of God.

THE REBEL'S DREAM.

By A. F. LEOVY.

Music by CH. REISNER.

Permission of A. E. BLACKMAR, New Orleans.

Softly in dreams of repose,
A vision so pure and so sweet,
Shines on a soldier's sad soul,
While his flag lies so low at his feet;
Softly an angel is seen,
Who saddens the spot with a sigh,
Swiftly the banner is raised,
And borne to bright realms in the sky.

Soft music from heavenly choirs,
Resounds from that paradise shore.
Oh! how sweet to the dreamer's light heart,
He sees his brave comrades once more.
His banner now floats o'er the blest,
And shimmers in heaven's pure air;
A voice from its folds is now heard,
Jackson prays for the flag that is there.

The soldier awakes from his dream.
Oh! that his sorrows were past,
Beyond the bright stars and the sky,
There's a home for the weary at last,
The gleam of some paradise joys,
Will greet him in heaven's pure air,
O the heroes who perished for right,
How sweet to rejoin them all there!

PRO MEMORA.

By INA M. PORTER, of Alabama.

_Air--"There is Rest for the Weary."_

Lo! the Southland queen emerging,
From her sad and wintry gloom,
Robes her torn and bleeding bosom,
In her richest Orient bloom.

CHORUS.--(_Repeat first line three times._)
For her weary sons are resting
By the Eden shore;
They have won the crown immortal,
And the cross of death is o'er!
When the oriflamme is burning,
On the starlit Eden shore.

Brightly still in gorgeous glory,
God's great jewel lights the sky;
Look! Upon the heart's white dial,
There's a shadow flitting by.

CHORUS.--But the weary feet are resting, etc.

Homes are dark and hearts are weary,
Souls are numb with hopeless pain;
For the footfall on the threshold
Never more to sound again!

CHORUS.--They have gone from us forever,
Aye, for evermore!
We must win the crown immortal,
Follow where they led before,
Where the oriflamme is burning,
On the starlit Eden shore.

Proudly, as our Southern forests,
Meet the winter's shafts so keen;
Time-defying memories cluster,
Round our hearts in living green.

CHORUS.--They have gone from us forever, etc.

May our faltering voices mingle,
In the angel-chanted psalm;
May our earthly chaplets linger,
By the bright celestial palm.

CHORUS.--They have gone from us forever, etc.

Crest to crest they bore our banner,
Side by side they fell asleep;
Hand in hand we scatter flowers,
Heart to heart we kneel and weep.

CHORUS.--They have gone from us forever, etc.

When the May eternal dawneth
At the living God's behest,
We will quaff divine Nepenthe,
We shall share the soldier's rest.

CHORUS.--Where the weary feet are resting, etc.

Where the shadows are uplifted,
'Neath the never-waning sun,
Shout we Gloria in Excelsis!
We have lost, but ye have won!

CHORUS.--Our hearts are yours forever,
Aye, for evermore!
Ye have won the crown immortal,
And the cross of death is o'er,
When the oriflamme is burning
On the starlit Eden shore!

WEARIN' OF THE GRAY.

By TAR HEEL.

[The music of this song can be obtained of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston, Mass.]

Oh! Johnny, dear, and did you hear the news that's lately spread,
That never more the Southern cross must rear its stately head;
The "white and red's" forbid by law, so Northmen proudly say,
Nor you nor I can e'er again be "Wearin' of the Gray!"
And when we meet with strangers kind, who take us by the hand,
Inquiring warmly of the South, our own beloved land,
We're bound to tell the woeful truth, let cost whate'er it may,
That some are threatened e'en with death, for "Wearin' of the Gray!"

Then since the color we must wear is of the hateful blue,
The children of the sunny South must be to mem'ry true;
Ah! take the cockade from their hats and tread it 'neath the feet,
And still tho' bruis'd and mangled sad, 'twill speak a language sweet;
And buried in our heart of hearts the precious words lie hid,
Where oft they call the bitter tears to wet the drooping lid;
But let them flow, they do us good thro' all the mournful day,
While constant we do call to mind the "Wearin' of the Gray!"

And if at last our father's law be torn from Southland's heart,
Her sons will take their household gods and far away depart;
Rememb'ring still the whisper'd word, to weary wand'rers giv'n,
That justice pure, and perfect rest, are found alone in heav'n.
Then on some green and distant isle beneath the setting sun,
We'll patient wait the coming time when life and earth are done,
Nor even in the dying hour, while passing calm away,
Can we forget or e'er regret the "Wearin' of the Gray!"

THE FADED GRAY JACKET.

By MRS. C. A. BALL.

Music by CHARLIE WARD.

Permission of the W. S. SHAW CO., Philadelphia.

Fold it up carefully, lay it aside,
Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride;
For dear must it be to our hearts evermore,
The jacket of gray our loved soldier boy wore.
Can we ever forget when he joined the brave band,
Who rose in defense of our dear Southern land;
And in his bright youth hurried on to the fray,
How proudly he donned it, the jacket of gray?

CHORUS.--Fold it up carefully, lay it aside,
Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride;
For dear it must be to our hearts evermore,
The jacket of gray our loved soldier boy wore.

His fond mother blessed him and looked up above,
Commending to Heaven the child of her love;
What anguish was hers, mortal tongue may not say,
When he passed from her sight in the jacket of gray.
But her country had called him, she would not repine,
Though costly the sacrifice placed on its shrine;
Her heart's dearest hopes on its altar she lay,
When she sent out her boy, in his jacket of gray!
CHORUS.

Months passed, and war's thunders rolled over the land,
Unsheathed was the sword and lighted the brand;
We heard in the distance the noise of the fray,
And prayed for our boy in the jacket of gray.
Ah! vain all--all vain were our prayers and our tears
The glad shout of victory rang in our ears;
But our treasured one on the cold battle-field lay,
While the life blood oozed out on the jacket of gray.
CHORUS.

His young comrades found him and tenderly bore
His cold, lifeless form to his home by the shore;
Oh! dark were our hearts on that terrible day,
When we saw our dead boy in the jacket of gray.
Ah! spotted, and tattered, and stained now with gore,
Was the garment which once he so gracefully wore;
We bitterly wept as we took it away,
And replaced with death's white robes, the jacket of gray.
CHORUS.

We laid him to rest in his cold, narrow bed,
And graved on the marble, we placed o'er his head,
As the proudest of tributes our sad hearts could pay,
"He never disgraced the dear jacket of gray."
Then fold it up carefully, lay it aside,
Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride;
For dear must it be to our hearts evermore,
The jacket of gray our loved soldier boy wore.
CHORUS.

I'M A GOOD OLD REBEL.

By J. R. T.

[The music of this song can be obtained of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston, Mass.]

O, I'm a good old rebel,
Now that's just what I am,
For this "Fair Land of Freedom"
I do not care a damn;
I'm glad I fit against it,
I only wish we'd won,
And I don't want no pardon
For anything I done.

I hates the Constitution,
This great Republic too,
I hates the Freedman's Buro,
In uniform of blue;
I hates the nasty eagle,
With all his bragg and fuss,
The lyin', thievin' Yankees,
I hates them wuss and wuss.

I hates the Yankee nation
And everything they do,
I hates the Declaration
Of Independence, too;
I hates the glorious Union--
'Tis dripping with our blood--
I hates their striped banner,
I fit it all I could.

Three hundred thousand Yankees
Is stiff in Southern dust;
We got three hundred thousand
Before they conquered us;
They died of Southern fever,
And Southern steel and shot,
I wish they was three million,
Instead of what we got.

I followed old mas' Robert
For four year near about,
Got wounded in three places,
And starved at Pint Lookout;
I cotched the roomatism,
A campin' in the snow,
But I killed a chance o' Yankees,
I'd like to kill some mo'.

I can't take up my musket
And fight 'em now no more,
But I ain't a-going to love 'em,
Now that is sartin' sure;
And I don't want no pardon,
For what I was and am,
I won't be reconstructed,
And I don't care a damn.

TRUE TO THE GRAY.

By PEARL RIVERS.

I cannot listen to your words, the land is long and wide;
Go seek some happy Northern girl to be your loving bride;
My brothers they were soldiers--the youngest of the three
Was slain while fighting by the side of gallant Fitzhugh Lee!

They left his body on the field (your side the day had won),
A soldier spurned him with his foot--you might have been the one;
My lover was a soldier--he belonged to Gordon's band;
A sabre pierced his gallant heart--your's might have been the hand.

He reel'd and fell, but was not dead, a horseman spurr'd his steed
And trampled on the dying brain--you may have done the deed;
I hold no hatred in my heart, no cold, unrighteous pride,
For many a gallant soldier fought upon the other side.

But still I cannot kiss the hand that smote my country sore,
Nor love the foes that trampled down the colors that she bore;
Between my heart and yours there rolls a deep and crimson tide--
My brother's and my lover's blood forbid me be your bride.

The girls who lov'd the boys in gray--the girls to country true,
May ne'er in wedlock give their hands to those who wore the blue.

WE KNOW THAT WE WERE REBELS; OR, WHY CAN WE NOT BE BROTHERS?

By CLARENCE PRENTICE.

Why can we not be brothers? the battle now is o'er;
We've laid our bruised arms on the field to take them up no more;
We who have fought you hard and long, now overpower'd, stand
As poor, defenseless prisoners in our own native land.

CHORUS.--We know that we were rebels,
And we don't deny the name,
We speak of that which we have done
With grief, but not with shame!

But we have rights most sacred, by solemn compact bound,
Seal'd by the blood that freely gush'd from many a ghastly wound;
When Lee gave up his trusty sword, and his men laid down their arms,
It was that they should live at home, secure from war's dire harms.
CHORUS.

And surely, since we're now disarm'd, we are not to be dreaded;
Our old chiefs, who on many fields our trusty columns headed,
Are fast within an iron grasp, and manacled with chains,
Perchance, 'twixt dreary walls to stay as long as life remains!
CHORUS.

O shame upon the coward band who, in the conflict dire,
Went not to battle for their cause, 'mid the ranks of steel and fire,
Yet now, since all the fighting's done, are hourly heard to cry:
"Down with the traitors! hang them all! each rebel dog shall die!"
CHORUS.

We know that we were rebels, we don't deny the name,
We speak of that which we have done with grief, but not with shame!
And we never will acknowledge that the blood the South has spilt,
Was shed defending what we deemed a cause of wrong and guilt.
CHORUS.

WEARING OF THE GRAY.

Our cannons' mouths are dumb. No more our volleyed muskets peal,
Nor gleams, to mark where squadrons rush, the light from flashing steel;
No more our crossed and starry flags in gentle dalliance play
With battle breeze, as when we fought, a wearing of the gray.

Our cause is lost! No more we fight 'gainst overwhelming power;
All wearied are our limbs, and drenched with many a battle shower;
We fain would rest! For want of strength we yield them up the day,
And lower the flag so proudly borne while wearing of the gray.

Defeat is not dishonor! No! Of honor not bereft,
We should thank God that in our breasts this priceless boon is left;
And though we weep 'tis for those braves who stood in proud array
Beneath our flag, and nobly died while wearing of the gray.

When in the ranks of war we stood, and faced the deadly hail,
Our simple suits of gray composed our only coats of mail;
And of those awful hours that marked the bloody battle day,
In memory we'll still be seen a wearing of the gray.

O, should we reach that glorious place where waits the sparkling crown,
For every one who for the right his soldier life lay down,
God grant to us the privilege, upon that happy day,
Of clasping hands with those who fell a wearing of the gray.

THE SWORD OF ROBERT LEE.

Words by MOINA.

Music by ARMAND.

[The music of this song can be procured of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston, Mass., owners of the copyright.]

Forth from its scabbard, pure and bright,
Flashed the sword of Lee!
Far in the front of the deadly fight,
High o'er the brave, in the cause of right
It's stainless sheen, like a beacon light,
Led us to victory.

Out of its scabbard, when full long
It slumbered peacefully--
Roused from its rest by the battle song,
Shielding the feeble, smiting the strong,
Guarding the right, and avenging the wrong--
Gleamed the sword of Lee!

Forth from its scabbard, high in air,
Beneath Virginia's sky--
And they who saw it gleaming there,
And knew who bore it, knelt to swear,
That where that sword led they would dare
To follow and to die.

Out of its scabbard! Never hand
Waved sword from stain as free,
Nor purer sword led braver band,
Nor braver bled for a brighter land,
Nor brighter land had a cause as grand,
Nor cause a chief like Lee!

Forth from its scabbard! How we prayed,
That sword might victor be!
And when our triumph was delayed,
And many a heart grew sore afraid,
We still hoped on, while gleamed the blade
Of noble Robert Lee!

Forth from its scabbard! All in vain!
Forth flashed the sword of Lee!
'Tis shrouded now in its sheath again,
It sleeps the sleep of our noble slain,
Defeated, yet without a stain,
Proudly and peacefully.

OFF WITH YOUR GRAY SUITS, BOYS!

By LIEUT. FALLIGANT, Savannah, Ga.

Off with gray suits, boys!
Off with your rebel gear!
It smacks too much of the cannon's peal,
The lightning flash of your deadly steel,
And fills our hearts with fear.

The color is like the smoke,
That curled o'er your battle line;
It calls to mind the yell that woke,
When the dastard columns before you broke,
And their dead wore your fatal sign!

Off with your starry wreaths,
Ye who have led our van!
For you 'twas the pledge of a glorious death,
As we followed you over the glorious heath,
When we whipped them man to man!

Down with the cross and stars!
Too long has it waved on high;
'Tis covered all over with battle scars,
But its gleam the hated banner mars--
'Tis time to lay it by.

Down with the vows we had made!
Down with each memory!
Down with the thoughts of our noble dead!
Down, down to the dust where their forms are laid,
And down with liberty!

THE CONFEDERATE NOTE.[19]

By S. A. JONAS.

Representing nothing on God's earth now,
And naught in the water below it,
As a pledge of a nation that's dead and gone,
Keep it, dear Captain, and show it.
Show it to those that will lend an ear
To the tale this paper can tell,
Of liberty born, of the patriot's dream,
Of a storm-cradled nation that fell.

Too poor to possess the precious ore,
And too much a stranger to borrow,
We issue to-day our "promise to pay,"
And hope to redeem on the morrow.
Days rolled by, and weeks became years,
But our coffers were empty still;
Coin was so rare that the treasurer quakes,
If a dollar should drop in the till.

But the faith that was in us was strong indeed,
And our poverty well we discerned,
And these little checks represented the pay
That our suffering veterans earned.
We knew it had hardly a value in gold,
Yet as gold the soldiers received it;
It gazed in our eyes with a promise to pay,
And each patriot soldier believed it.

But our boys thought little of price or pay,
Or of bills that were over-due;
We knew if it bought our bread to-day,
'Twas the best our country could do.
Keep it! it tells all our history over,
From the birth of the dream to its last;
Modest, and born of the angel Hope,
Like our hope of success it passed.

THE CONQUERED BANNER.

By the Rev. J. A. RYAN, Catholic Priest of Knoxville, Diocese of Nashville, Tenn.

Music by A. E. BLACKMAR.

[The music of this song can be procured of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston, Mass., owners of the copyright.]

Furl that banner, for 'tis weary;
Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary;
Furl it, fold it, it is best;
For there's not a man to wave it,
And there's not a sword to save it,
And there's not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave it;
And its foes now scorn and brave it,--
Furl it, hide it, let it rest.

Take that banner down--'tis tattered,
Broken is its staff and shattered,
And the valiant hosts are scattered
Over whom it floated high.
Oh! 'tis hard for us to fold it,
Hard to think there's none to hold it,
Hard that those who once unrolled it
Now must furl it with a sigh.

Furl that banner, furl it sadly--
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly,
And ten thousands wildly, madly,
Swore it should forever wave,
Swore that foeman's sword could never
Hearts like their's entwined dissever,
'Till that flag would float forever
O'er their freedom or their grave.

Furl it! for the hands that grasped it,
And the hearts that fondly clasped it,
Cold and dead are lying low;
And the banner, it is trailing
While around it sounds the wailing
Of its people in their woe.
For, though conquered, they adore it,
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it,
Weep for those who fell before it,
Pardon those who trailed and tore it,
And oh! wildly they deplore it,
Now to furl and fold it so.

Furl that banner! true 'tis gory,
Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory,
And 'twill live in song and story,
Though its folds are in the dust;
For its fame on brightest pages,
Penned by poets and by sages,
Shall go sounding down the ages,
Furl its folds though now we must.

Furl that banner! softly, slowly,
Treat it gently--it is holy--
For it droops above the dead;
Touch it not, unfold it never;
Let it droop there, furled forever,
For its people's hopes are dead.

FOLD IT UP CAREFULLY.

A Reply to "The Conquered Banner," by SIR HENRY HOUGHTON, BART., of England.

Gallant nation, foiled by numbers,
Say not that your hopes are fled;
Keep that glorious flag which slumbers,
One day to avenge your dead.

Keep it, widowed, sonless mothers,
Keep it, sisters, mourning brothers,
Furl it with an iron will;
Furl it now, but--keep it still,
Think not that its work is done.

Keep it 'till your children take it,
Once again to hail and make it
All their sires have bled and fought for,
All their noble hearts have sought for,
Bled and fought for all alone.
All alone! aye, shame the story.
Millions here deplore the stain,
Shame, alas! for England's glory,
Freedom called, and called in vain.

Furl that banner, sadly, slowly,
Treat it gently, for 'tis holy:
'Till that day--yes, furl it sadly,
Then once more unfurl it gladly--
Conquered banner--keep it still!

INDEX.

_INDEX TO TITLES._

A Confederate Officer to his Lady Love, 42

Address of the Women to the Southern Troops, 24

Alabama, 170

Allons Enfans, 4

All Quiet along the Potomac to-night, 62

An Old Texan's Appeal, 174

A North Carolina Call to Arms, 237

Another Yankee Doodle, 15

Arise! ye Sons of Free-Born Sires!, 175

A Southern Song, 41, 99

A Southern Woman's Song, 222

At Fort Pillow, 137

Awake! To arms in Texas, 166

Banks' Skedaddle, 164

Battle of the Mississippi, 102

Battle Song, 240

Battle Song of the Invaded, 57

Baylor's Partisan Rangers, 178

Bayou City Guards' Dixie, 143

Bayou City Guards' Song, 131

Bombardment and Battle of Galveston, 191

Bombardment of Vicksburg, 343

Boys! Keep Your Powder Dry, 130

Bull Run, 38

By the Banks of Red River, 300

Call All! Call All!, 14

Campaign Ballad, 155

Camp Douglas by the Lake, 306

Cannon Song, 77

Carolina, 124

Chivalrous C. S. A., 78

Confederate Land, 48

Confederate Song, 94

Dear Mother, I've Come Home to Die, 349

Death of Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston, 187

Death of Stonewall Jackson, 345

De Cotton Down in Dixie, 145

Dixie, 238

Dixie's Land, 36

Do they Miss Me in the Trenches, 129

Dutch Volunteer, 10

Duty and Defiance, 141

Elegy on the Death of Lieut.-Col. Ch. B. Dreux, 37

Flight of Doodles, 66

Fold it up Carefully, 375

For Bales, 112

Freedom's New Banner, 30

Gathering Song, 40

Gay and Happy, 177

General Lee at the Battle of the Wilderness, 224

General Tom Green, 194

God Bless our Southern Land, 188

God Save the South, 1

God Will Defend the Right, 264

Goober Peas, 74

Hard Times, 196

Here's Your Mule, 319

Hood's Old Brigade, 207

Hood's Texas Brigade, 228

Hurrah!, 39

I'm a Good Old Rebel, 260

I'm Thinking of the Soldier, 182

Imogen, 172

Independence Day, 65

In Memoriam, 311

I Remember the Hour When Sadly We Parted, 291

I Wish I was in Dixie's Land, 153

Jackson's Resignation, 232

Knitting for the Soldiers, 52

Ladies, To the Hospital, 116

Land of King Cotton, 68

Land of the South, 115

Lee at the Wilderness, 95

Little Giffin, 329

Missouri, 308

Morgans War Song, 110, 244

Mother! Is the Battle Over?, 236

My Heart's in Mississippi, 211

My Maryland, 276

My Noble Warrior Come!, 226

My Warrior Boy, 256

National Hymn, 247

New Red, White and Blue, 60

North Carolina's War Song, 80

No Surrender, 221

Off with your Gray Suits, Boys!, 369

Oh, No! He'll not Need Them Again, 309

O, Johnny Bull, My Jo, John, 109

Old Stonewall, 338

Only a Soldier, 333

On to Glory, 199

Our Braves in Virginia, 56

Our Country's Call, 76

Our Flag; or, the Origin of the Stars and Bars, 292

Our Glorious Flag, 159

Over the River, 241, 249

Patriotic Song, 55

Polk, 350

Pop goes the Weasel, 27

Pray, Maiden, Pray, 284

Private Maguire, 250

Pro Memora, 353

Rallying Song of the Virginians, 26

Reading the List, 86

Rebel is a Sacred Name, 71

Rebel Toasts; or, Drink it Down, 279

Richmond is a Hard Road to Travel, 268

Richmond on the James, 266

Riding a Raid, 315

Sabine Pass, 320

Short Rations; or The Corn-fed Army, 322

Soldier, I Stay to Pray for Thee, 150

Song, 262

Song for the South, 103

Song of Hooker's Picket, 218

Song of the Exile, 245

Song of the Privateer, 227

Song of the Snow, 59

Song of the South, 114

Song of the Southern Soldier, 104

Song of the Texas Rangers, 287

Southern Battle Song, 189

Southern Cross, 6

Southern Gathering Song, 46

Southern Marseillaise, 45

Southern Soldier Boy, 69

Southern Song, 252

Southern Song of Freedom, 12

Southern War Cry, 35

Southron's War Song, 51

Southron's Chant of Defiance, the, 8

Star of the West, the, 7

Stonewall Jackson, 251

Stonewall Jackson's Way, 200

Stonewall's Requiem, 328

Stuart, 331

Sweethearts and the War, 230

That Bugler, 22

The Band in the Pines, 255

The Banner Song, 83

The Bars and Stars, 88

The Battle of Galveston, 185

The Battle of Shiloh Hill, 326

The Battle Song of the South, 210

The Beloved Memory of Major-General Tom Green, 203

The Black Flag, 163

The Bonnie Blue Flag, 31

The Bonnie White Flag, 341

The Capture of Seventeen of Company H, 4th Texas Cavalry, 168

The Cavalier's Glee, 261

The Confederate Note, 370

The Confederate Oath, 142

The Contraband, 216

The Conquered Banner, 373

The Cotton Burner's Song, 214

The Countersign, 133

The Darlings at Home, 134

The Drummer Boy of Shiloh, 336

The Dying Soldier Boy, 106

The Faded Gray Jacket, 358

The Flag of the Southland, 198

The Funeral of Albert Sidney Johnston, 212

The Gallant Girl that Smote the Dastard Tory, Oh!, 281

The Homespun Dress, 81

The Horse Marines at Galveston, 180

The Hour Before Execution, 160

The Man of the Twelfth of May, 242

The Mother's Farewell, 28

The Navasota Volunteers, 294

The Officer's Funeral, 289

The Officers of Dixie, 301

The Poor Soldier, 340

The Rebel Band, 258

The Rebel's Dream, 352

The Sentinel's Dream of Home, 303

The Soldier's Amen, 318

The Soldier's Death, 290

The Soldier's Dream, 297

The Soldier's Farewell, 324

The Soldier's Mission, 149

The Soldier's Suit of Gray, 285

The South, 339

The Southern Banner, 108

The Southern Captive, 346

The Southern Flag, 91

The Southern Soldier Boy, 260

The South for Me, 123

The South our Country, 152

The Southron's Watchword, 272

The Stars and the Bars, 93

The Sword of Robert Lee, 367

The Texan Marseillaise, 100

The Toast of Morgan's Men, 317

The Volunteer, 85

The Volunteer; or, It is my Country's Call, 347

The Young Volunteer, 73

There's Life in the Old Land yet, 273

Three Cheers for our Jack Morgan, 282

To the Davis Guard, 120

True Heart Southrons, 317

True to the Gray, 363

Vicksburg Song, 126

War Song, 61, 90, 122

Wearin' of the Gray, 356

Wearing of the Gray, 366

We Conquer or Die, 263

We Know That We Were Rebels; or Why Can We Not Be Brothers, 364

We Left Him on the Field, 234

We'll Be Free in Maryland, 49

We Swear, 29

When the Boys Come Home, 334

Would'st Thou Have me Love Thee, 20

Yankee Vandals, 314

"Ye Men of Alabama,", 17

You are Going to the Wars, Willie, Boy!, 275

1776-1861, 19

_INDEX TO AUTHORS._

Alexander, (Capt.) G. W., 69

Ball, (Mrs.) C. A., 358

Barnes, (Mrs.) Wm., 194

Bigney, M. F., 272

Blackford, Capt., 261

Blackmar, A. E., 4

Bowers, E., 349

Brown, Reuben E., 174

Caplen, (Mrs.) L. E., 185

Carnes, (Rev.) J. E., 155

Cave, (Major) E. W., 198

Collins, P. E., 210

Cooke, John Esten, 255

Cross, (Mrs.) J. T. H., 24

Cummins, Alex. A., 227

Cunningham, A. B., 106, 290

Cunningham, (Lieut.) W. P., 120

Dasher, C. D., 338

Duke, (Gen.) Basil, 110

Emmett, Dan. D., 153

Ezzell, S. R., 191

Falligant, Lieut., 369

Falligant, Robert, 242

Flash, H. L., 350

Fontaine, (Major) Lamar, 62, 333

Forshey, (Col.) C. G., 134

French, L. Virginia, 46

Grason, (Miss) Maria, 41

Griswold, (Capt.) E., 247

Haines, James, 100

Hawkins (Col.), W. S., 108, 341

Hayne, Paul H., 163

Haynes, W. A., 88

Hewitt, John H., 275

Hewett, John M., 73

Hobby, (Capt.) Edwin, 203

Hobby, (Col.) A. M., 303

Holtz, R. E., 49

Houghton, (Bart.) Sir Henry, 375

Houston, (Capt.) Sam, 346

Jones, (Miss) Maria E., 160, 234, 249

Ketchum, Annie C., 40

Kercheval, A. W., 284

Kidd, E. E., 300

Knight, A. G., 22

Leonard, A. F., 115

Leovy, A. F., 352

Lorrimer, Laura, 170

Magruder, (Maj-Gen.) J. B., 172

Marshall, Jas. B., 83

McCarthy, Harry, 31, 292, 308, 347

McKnight, Major ("Asa Hartz"), 42

Meek, Alex. B., 20

Miles, Geo. H., 1

Milror, George B., 187

Moore, (Miss) Mollie E., 95, 207, 311

Morris, A. E., 175

Morse, A. W., 149

Neeby, Anna Marie, 266

Neely, Wm., 294

Norfolk, Virginia, 241

Paine, (Dr.) John W., 55

Pender, A., 74

Phelan, John D., 17

Pierpont, Jas., 263

Pike, Albert, 238

Porter, Ina M., 353

Prentice, Clarence, 364

Preston, (Mrs.) M. J., 59

Randall, Jas. B., 273

Randall, Jas. R., 37, 276

Raymond, Eugene, 282

Rivers, Pearl, 363

Ryan, Father, 260

Ryan, (Rev.) J. A., 373

Signaigo, Jo Augustine, 68

Sinclair, (Miss) Carrie Bell, 285

Smith, Mary E., 182

Smith, M. B., 196, 326

Strawbridge, H. H., 48

Sulzner, Fr., 297

Tally, Susan A., 26

Thompson, E. M., 152

Thompson, Jeff., 60

Thorpe, (Capt.), 317

Thovington, J. S., 150

Ticknor, (Dr.) Francis O., 329

Townsend, Dan. E., 30

Tucker, St. Geo., 6

Turner, (Miss) J., 370

Upshur, Mary J., 52

Vose, (Mrs.) Henry J., 331

Waginer, J. A., 41

Wailes, (Capt.) E. Lloyd, 94

Walther, H., 76

Warfield, C. A., 8

Washington, (Col.) Hamilton, 141

Wilson, Mary L., 178

Woodcock, J. H., 122

Wright, (Capt.) J. W. A., 126

Young, (Mrs.) J. D., 287

Young, (Mrs.) M. J., 320

INDEX TO FIRST LINES.

A farmer came to camp, one day, with milk and eggs to sell, 319

A flash from the edge of a hostile trench, 350

Aha! a song for the trumpet's tongue, 77

Alas! the rolling hours pass slow, 133

A life on the Vicksburg bluff, 126

All quiet along the Potomac to-night, 62

A nation has sprung into life, 12

Arise! Arise! with main and might, 51

Arise! Ye sons of freeborn sires, arise! your country save, 175

As a couple of good soldiers were walking one day, 318

A soldier boy from Texas lay gasping on the field, 266

At Bull Run, when the sun was low, 38

A warrior has fallen! a chieftain has gone, 194

Away down South in de fields of cotton, 36

Bob Roebuck is my sweetheart's name, 69

Bravely ye've fought, my gallant, gallant men, 241

By blue Patapsco's billowy dash, 273

By the cross upon our banner--glory of our Southern sky, 142

Can'st tell who lose the battle oft in the council field, 130

Cheer, boys, cheer! we'll march away to battle, 244

Childhood's days have long since faded, 306

Come, all ye sons of freedom, 252

Come all ye temper'd hearts of steel--come, quit your flocks and farms, 174

Come, all ye valiant soldiers, and a story I will tell, 326

Come, brothers! rally for the right, 40

Come! come! come, 61

Come, stack arms, men! pile on the rails, 200

Countrymen of Washington, 35

Darkies, has you seed my massa, 216

Dear mother, I remember well, 349

Do they miss me in the trenches, do they miss me, 129

Down by the valley, 'mid thunder and lightning, 228

Ever constant, ever true, 221

Fair ladies and maids of all ages, 322

Fearlessly the seas we roam, 227

Fighting for our rights now, feasting when they're won, 131

Flag of the Southland! Flag of the free, 198

Fold away all your bright tinted dresses, 116

Fold it up carefully, lay it aside, 358

Forth from its scabbard pure and bright, 367

For sixty days and upward a storm of shell and shot, 343

For trumpet and drum, leave the soft voice of maiden, 317

From Houston City and Brazos bottom, 143

Furl that banner, for 'tis weary, 373

Gallant nation, foiled by numbers, 375

God bless our Southern land, 188

God save the South, 1

Halt! the march is over, 59

Hark! the clock strikes! All, all that now remains, 160

Hark! the tocsin is sounding, my comrades, 324

Hark! 'tis the shrill trumpet calling, 289

Haste thee, falter not, noble patriot band, 149

Have you counted up the cost, 240

Hear the summons, sons of Texas, 178

Hear ye not the sound of battle, 166

He fell and they cried, bring us home our dead!, 212

Ho, gallants, brim the beaker bowl, 281

Hurrah! for the Southern confederate State, 39

Hurrah for the South, the glorious South! the land of song and story, 114

Huzza! huzza! let's raise the battle-cry, 122

I am dreaming of thee, 297

I cannot listen to your words, the land is long and wide, 363

I come from old Manassas, with a pocket full of fun, 66

If ever I consent to be married, 99

I leave my home, and thee, dear, with sorrow at my heart, 347

I'll sing you a song of the South's sunny clime, 78

I'm a soldier, you see, that oppression has made, 104

I'm gwine back to de land of cotton, 145

I'm 'nation tired of being hired, 218

In the land of the orange groves, sunshine and flowers, 203

I remember the hour when sadly we parted, 291

"Is there any news of the war?" she said, 86

It vos in Ni Orleans City, 10

It was on a New Year's morn so soon, 180

I've seen some handsome uniforms deck'd off with buttons bright, 285

I wish I was in de land o' cotton, 7

I wish I was in de land ob cotton, 153

Just listen awhile, and give ear to my song, 196

King Abraham is very sick, 27

Kneel, ye Southrons, kneel and swear, 29

Knitting for the soldiers, 52

Lady, I go to fight for thee, 150

Land of our birth, thee, thee I sing, 210

Land of the South! the fairest land, 115

Let me whisper in your ear, sir, 301

Like the roar of the wintry surges on a wild tempestuous strand, 163

Little do rich people know, 340

Lo! the Southland queen emerging, 353

Lo! when Mississippi rolls, 214

Maiden, pray for thy lover now, 284

March, march on, brave "Palmetto" boys, 90

'Mid her ruins proudly stands, 124

Missouri is the pride of the Nation, 60

Missouri! Missouri! bright land of the West, 308

Mother! is the battle over? thousands have been killed, they say, 236

My heart in its sadness turns fondly to thee, 339

My heart is in Mississippi, 211

My love reposes on a rosewood frame, 42

Now let the thrilling anthem rise, 247

Now rouse ye, gallant comrades all, 26

O band in the pinewood cease!, 255

"Och, its nate to be captain or colonel", 250

Of all the mighty nations in the East or in the West, 103

Off with gray suits, boys!, 369

Oh, dear its shameful, I declare, 230

Oh! Dixie, the land of King Cotton, 68

Oh, don't you remember old Stonewall, my boys, 338

Oh! Freedom is a blessed thing, 65

Oh, gone is the soul from his wondrous dark eye, 300

Oh! here I am in the land of cotton, 245

Oh! here's to South Carolina! drink it down, 279

Oh! Johnny, dear, and did you hear the news that's lately spread, 356

Oh! mother of States and of men, 331

Oh no! no! he'll not need them again, 309

Oh! say can you see through the gloom and the storms, 6

Oh! the tocsin of war still resounds o'er the land, 88

Oh! yes, I am a Southern girl, 81

O, Johnny Bull, my Jo, John! I wonder what you mean, 109

O, I'm a good old rebel, 360

O, I'm thinking of the soldier as the evening shadows fall, 182

Old Eve she did the apple eat, 258

On a bright May morn in 'Sixty-three, 345

"Only a soldier!" I heard them say, 333

On Shiloh's dark and bloody ground the dead and wounded lay, 336

O, tell me not that earth is fair, that spring is in its bloom, 226

O, the South is the queen of all nations, 93

Our cannons' mouths are dumb. No more our volleyed muskets peal, 366

Our country, our country, oh, where may we find, 152

Our flag is unfurl'd and our arms flash bright, 73

Out of the focal and foremost fire, 329

Over the river there are fierce stern meetings, 249

Over vale and over mountain, 170

Pillow his head on his flashing sword, 311

Raise the Southern flag on high!, 189

Raise the thrilling cry, to arms!, 141

Rally round our country's flag!, 94

Rebel is a sacred name, 71

Representing nothing on God's earth now, 370

Rise, rise, mountain and valley men, 55

Sabine Pass! in letters of gold, 320

Sing ho! for the Southerner's meteor flag, 108

Sitting by the roadside on a Summer day, 74

Softly comes the twilight stealing gently through my prison bars, 346

Softly in dreams of repose, 352

Soldiers! raise your banner proudly, 120

Sons of freedom, on to glory, 199

Sons of the South arise, 264

Sons of the South, arouse to battle, 100

Sons of the South awake to glory, 4

Sons of the South, beware the foe, 46

Sons of the South! from hill and dale, 19

Southern men, unsheathe the sword, 24

Southrons, hear your country call you, 238

States of the South! confederate land, 48

Stitch, stitch, stitch, 222

The boys are coming home again, 335

The boys down South in Dixie's Land, 49

The despot's heel is on thy shore, 276

The foe! the foe! They come! they come!, 57

The hour was sad I left the maid, 85

The morning star is paling, the camp-fires flicker low, 287

The muffled drum is beating, 328

The night-cloud had lowered o'er Shiloh's red plain, 290

The Northern abolition vandals, 314

The sentinel treads his martial round, 134

The shades of night were falling fast, 22

The snow is in the cloud, and night is gathering o'er us, 282

The South for me! The sunny clime, 123

The sun sinking o'er the battle plain, 187

The tyrant's broad pennant is floating, 102

The war drum is beating, prepare for the fight, 263

The Yankees hate the Lone Star State, because she did secede, 191

There he stood, the grand old hero, great Virginia's god-like son, 224

There is freedom on each fold, and each star is freedom's throne, 159

Though we're a band of prisoners, 341

Thou hast gone forth, my darling one, 256

Three cheers for the Southern flag, 91

'Tis dead of night, nor voice, nor sound, breaks on the stillness of the air, 303

'Tis old Stonewall, the rebel, that leans on his sword, 315

To arms! oh! men in all our Southern clime, 76

'Twas a terrible moment, 95

'Twas early in the morning of eighteen sixty-three, 168

'Twas midnight when we built our fires, 207

'Twas on that dark and fearful morn, 185

Unclaimed by the land that bore us, 317

Unmoved in the battle, 251

Upon Manassas' bloody plain a soldier boy lay dying, 106

Up, up with the banner, the foe is before us, 83

Wake! dearest, wake! 'tis thy lover who calls, Imogen, 172

We all went down to New Orleans, 112

We are a band of brothers, and native to the soil, 31

Weep, Louisiana, weep! thy gallant dead, 37

We have ridden from the brave southwest, 56

We leave our pleasant homesteads, 80

We left him on the crimson'd field, 234

Well, we can whip them now I guess, 232

We're the boys so gay and happy, 177

We're the Navasota volunteers, our county is named Grimes, 294

What shall the Southron's watchword be, 272

When clouds of oppression o'ershaded, 30

When history tells her story, 242

While crimson drops our hearth-stones stain, 41

Whoop! the Doodles have broken loose, 14

Why can we not be brothers? the battle now is o'er, 364

Would'st thou have me love thee, dearest, 20

Would you like to hear my song, I'm afraid it's rather long, 268

Yankee Doodle had a mind, 15

Ye men of Alabama, 17

Ye men of Southern hearts and feeling, 45

Ye sons of Carolina! awake from your dreaming, 237

Ye sons of the South, take your weapons in hand, 110

You are going to leave me, darling, 28

You are going to the wars, Willie boy, Willie boy, 275

You can never win us back, 8

You know the Federal General Banks, 164

Young as the youngest who donned the gray, 260

Young Florida sends forth her clan--the old Dominion's brave, 155

Young stranger, what land claims thy birth, 292

You shudder as you think upon th' carnage of the grim report, 137

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This was the first song published in the South during the war.

[2] The Rebel ram.

[3] A writer, describing the siege of Vicksburg, gives the following:

"The meal issued to the army was very coarse, and there were no
sieves, and the beef, as a general thing, was hardly fit to feed to a
dog. Some herds of Texas steers were corraled near the town, lean,
gaunt, long-horned, repulsive looking creatures, and every morning the
weakest of the herd were slaughtered for the day's rations. In the
Twentieth Alabama, each day a company of men could be seen having in
their hands long ox-horns, upon which they occasionally blew a
mournful blast, as with solemn steps and slow, they bore to a suitable
burial place the beef issued to them for that day. Arrived at the spot
a hole was dug, the meat was dumped into it, a mound was heaped over
it, a funeral oration was said, the ox-horns once more sounded the
dolorous requiem, and then the mourners returned to camp, their heads
bowed down with grief and sorrow. Upon inquiring what this woeful
pageant meant, I was informed that the men were simply engaged in "the
burial of _Old Logan_."

[4] Colonel J. J. Archer.

[5] This thrilling song was circulated _sub rosa_ in New Orleans, and at times almost openly. Its bold and defiant tone shows it to have been written by one who must have suffered greatly at the hands of Butler.

[6] The Cotton Supply Association, of Manchester, England.

[7] A touching incident occurred in Montgomery at the beginning of the war. A soldier met a lovely and refined lady in the street, and feeling that in such times we are all sisters and brothers, and wishing to do homage to such beauty, he touched his hat and said: "Lady, I'm going to fight for you." "Sir," she instantly replied, "I am going to pray for you."

[8] Constitutional Liberty against Oppression--a "Cause" decided many times in the Old World, yet to be taught in the New.

[9] The Memphis _Appeal_ published the following:--"On yesterday all the cotton in Memphis was burned. Probably not less than 300,000 bales have been burned in the last three days in West Tennessee and North Mississippi."

[10] Capt. Riley commanded a battery composed of Irishmen from North Carolina, and was nearly always attached to Hood's Brigade. The "swarthy old hounds" refer to his Napoleon guns.

[11] In commemoration of Gen. J. B. Gordon's charge against Hancock's corps at Spotsylvania Court House, May 12, 1864.

[12] Fremont, "the path-finder."

[13] Battle of Cedar Run.

[14] Sung by Harry McCarthy, in his "Personation Concerts," in all the principal towns of the Confederacy.

[15] On the morning of the battle of Franklin, Tennessee, Major General Patrick Cleburne, while riding along the line, encouraging his men, saw an old friend--a captain in his command--barefooted, and feet bleeding. Alighting from his horse he told the Captain to "please" pull off his boots. Upon the Captain doing so, the General told him to try them on, which he did. Whereupon the General mounted his horse, telling the Captain he was tired of wearing boots, and could well do without them. He would hear of no remonstrance, and bidding the Captain good-by, rode away. In this condition he was killed.

[16] Brave to a fault, he was cut down in his early youth, and fell a willing sacrifice at the altar of his country. Among his last words he said, "I fell beside my gun."

[17] The chorus is sung to the second part of the air, excepting after the fifth and sixth verses.

[18] Several weeks after the commencement of the terrific bombardment, ladies were seen coolly walking the streets, and children in many parts of the city engaged, as ever, in their playing, only stopping their sport for the moment to gaze and listen at the bursting shells.

[19] The above lines were found written upon the back of a five-hundred dollar Confederate note, subsequent to the surrender.

<pre id="pg-footer">