SONGSTER OF THE

PALMETTO RIFLEMEN

&

NEW YORK ZOUAVES

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves i

SONGSTER OF THE Palmetto Riflemen & New York Zouaves

Prepared by the Committee on Military Instruction and Lecture

Introduction

“All history proves that music is as indispensable to warfare as money; and money has been called the sinews of war. Music is the soul of Mars...” – The New York Herald, 1862.

This “Songster” has been created for the membership of the “Palmetto Riflemen” & “New York Zouaves” as a Song Book to be used in the camp, around the fire, on the field, and all other places. Efforts have been made to try and make sure that all of the songs included herein were written prior to 1865 and as such would have been heard in the armies of the United and Confederate States during the conflict.

Some of these songs may be considered inappropriate by today’s standards, such as ethnic parodies and racial references, however it should be remembered that during the conflict these were commonplace and were considered as acceptable public entertainment, and should be used in a historical context such as reenactments and living histories.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Music was important throughout the war and played a large part in the daily lives of the soldiers of both armies. From buglers, drummers, and fifers playing the various calls to duty or orders; the regimental or brigade bands that played inspiring music while on the march or in the fight; and the soldiers themselves singing in camp as a diversion from the humdrum of daily life. They wound sing to combat homesickness, to raise their spirits, to ease boredom, and to forget the weariness of the war. Music was a daily part of the soldier’s lives and would have been heard in camp, on the march, on the drill field, and every other conceivable place from the loan voice singing a tune to the sound of thousands in chorus.

The degree to which the importance of music played during the war is best illustrated in an account from the “Histories of the Several Regiments and Battalions from North Carolina in the Great War.” In that history, it was recounted that following a performance of the regimental band of the 26th North Carolina in April of 1864 General Robert E. Lee remarked to Colonel John R. Lane, of that regiment, that, “I don't think we could have an army without music.” As such, a knowledge of period music is vital to the impression of any reenactor wishing to properly and correctly portray the soldiers or civilians of the period.

ii The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves

Contents

The Army Bean ...... 1 Keemo Kimo ...... 15 – 16

Babylon Has Fallen ...... 1 Kingdom Coming ...... 16

Billy Barlow ...... 1 – 2 The Minstrel Boy ...... 16

Bonnie Blue Flag ...... 2 – 3 Money is a Hard Thing to Borrow ...... 17

Bounty Jumpers Lament ...... 3 Mr. Here’s Your Mule ...... 17

Brass Mounted Army ...... 4 Nelly Bly ...... 18

Corporal Schnapps ...... 5 New York Volunteer ...... 18

De Boatman’s Dance ...... 5 – 6 Oh, Lemuel ...... 19

Dandy Jim from Caroline ...... 6 Old Dan Tucker ...... 19

Dixie (Union) ...... 6 – 7 Old King Crow ...... 20

Dixie’s Land ...... 7 Old Pee Dee ...... 20

Down in Alabama ...... 8 Over the Hills and Far Away ...... 21

Fall of Charleston ...... 8 – 9 The Parting Glass ...... 21

Garry Owen ...... 9 Richmond is a Hard Road to Travel ...... 21 – 23

Girl I left behind me ...... 9 Ring, Ring de Banjo ...... 23

The Glendy Burke ...... 9 – 10 Root, Hog, or Die ...... 23 – 24

Goober Peas ...... 10 Rose of Alabama ...... 24

Grafted into the Army ...... 10 – 11 The Rouge’s March ...... 25

Hard Tack Come Again No More . . . . . 11 Sally Brown ...... 25 – 26

Hard Times Come Again No More . . . . 11 The Southern Wagon ...... 26 – 27

A Health to the Company ...... 12 Spanish Lady ...... 27

Home, Sweet Home ...... 12 Stonewall Jackson’s Way ...... 28

How Are You Telegraph ...... 12 Tenting Tonight on the Old Campground . . . . 28 – 29

If I only had a Mustache ...... 13 That’s What’s the Matter ...... 29

The Invalids ...... 13 – 14 Tramp, Tramp, Tramp ...... 29 – 30

Jenny Get Your Hoecakes Done ...... 14 Uncle Joe’s Hail Columbia ...... 30

Jim Along Josey ...... 14 – 15 The Valiant Conscript ...... 30 – 31

Jordan is a Hard Road to Travel ...... 15

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves iii

The Company Songster

♦ THE ARMY BEAN ♦ Don't you see the lightnin' Flashin' in de canebrake, Author unknown; Sung to the tune of “In the Sweet Bye and Bye” Like as if we's gwine to hab a storm? No! You is mistaken, There's a spot that the soldiers all love, 'Tis darkies' bay'nets, The mess tent's the place that we mean, An' de buttons on dar uniform. (Chorus) And the dish we best like to see there Way up in the cornfield, Is the old-fashioned white army bean. Whar you hear de tunder, (Chorus) Tis the bean that we mean, Dat is our ole forty-pounder gun; And we'll eat as we ne'er ate before; When the shells are missin', The army bean, nice and clean, Den we load wid punkins, We will stick to our beans evermore. All de same to make the cowards run. (Chorus)

Now the bean in it's primitive state Mass was de Kernel Is a plant we have all often met; In de Rebel army, And when cooked in the old army style Eber sence he went an' run away; It has charms we can never forget. – Chorus But his lubly darkies, Dey has been a-watchin', The German is fond of sourkraut, An' dey take him pris'ner tudder day. (Chorus) The potato is loved by the Mick, But the soldiers have long since found out We will be be the Massa, He will be the sarvant, And thru life to our beans we should stick. – Chorus

Try him how he like it for a spell; So we crack de Butt'nuts, ♦ BABYLON HAS FALLEN ♦ So we take the Kernel, So the cannon carry back de shell. (Chorus)

Words and Music by Henry Clay Work, ca. 1863

Don't you see de black clouds ♦ BILLY BARLOW ♦

Risin' ober yonder, Whar de Massa's old plantation am? The marching song of Company B of the 9th New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment, “Hawkins Zouaves.” Neber you be frightened, Dem is only darkies, Come to jine an' fight for Uncle Sam, Good evening kind friends how do you all do? 'Tis a very long time since I've been to see you, Chorus – Look out dar, now! I am a volunteer for the Union I go; We's agwine to shoot! And I'm down on Secession, is Billy Barlow. Look out dar, don't you understand? (Oh, don't you know dat) Oh! yes, I'm rough, I well know, Babylon is fallen! But a bully old soldier is Billy Barlow. Babylon is fallen! Since last I saw you, to Richmond I've been, An' we's agwine to occupy the land. And during my stay Mrs. Davis I've seen.

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 1 She treated me kindly, and smiled on me so. Oh! dear, I'm ragged, I know, Old Jeff he got jealous of Billy Barlow. Hurrah for the Union! Says Billy Barlow.

Oh! yes, I'm rough, I well know, But the ladies all like Mr. William Barlow. ♦ BONNIE BLUE FLAG ♦ It's down in Virginia at a place called Bull Run Where first our brave soldiers their fighting begun Author Harry Macarthy, ca. 1861 It's true they got routed but then you all know It was on account of the absence of Billy Barlow. We are a band of brothers Oh! yes, I'm rough, I well know, And native to the soil, But a bully old soldier is Billy Barlow. Fighting for the property We gained by honest toil; Our country's excited 'bout this thing and that, And when our rights were threatened, Both North and the South hardly know what they're at. The cry rose near and far— They secession. Coercion, and compromise blow, "Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag But it's talk and no cider, thinks Billy Barlow. That bears a single star!" Oh! dear, I'm ragged I know, (CHORUS) Hurrah! Hurrah! But "Stand by the Union" will Billy Barlow For Southern rights hurrah! If I had but the power I'd soon bring 'em to, Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag Though this may be nonsense I'm singing to you. That bears a single star. I'd hang of ringleaders a hundred or so, And choke off secession, would Billy Barlow. As long as the Union Was faithful to her trust, Oh! dear, I'm ragged, I know, Like friends and like brothers Then times would be better, thinks Billy Barlow. Both kind were we and just; Our cities are flooded with traitors and spies, But now, when Northern treachery And our papers are filled with a strange pack of lies; Attempts our rights to mar, They'll agitate questions for friend or a foe. We hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag Whilst they pocket the rhino says Billy Barlow That bears a single star. — CHORUS

Oh! dear, I'm ragged, I know, First gallant South Carolina Self-interest they go for, thinks Billy Barlow. Nobly made the stand, Then came Alabama, Our members of Congress have plenty to do, Who took her by the hand. But it's seldom, if ever, they do it, 'tis true. Next quickly Mississippi, Political speeches for hours they'll blow, Georgia and Florida But it all 'mounts to nothing, says Billy Barlow. All raised on high the Bonnie Blue Flag Oh! dear, I'm ragged, I know, That bears a single star. — CHORUS Why don't they do something? says Billy Barlow. Ye men of valor, gather round Believe me, my friend, in my song I don't err, The banner of the right; But the poor have to suffer when such things occur; Texas and fair Louisiana And as I belong to that class, you must know, Join us in the fight. I'd fight for the Union, would Billy Barlow. Davis, our loved president,

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 2

And Stephens statesman are; Now rally round the Bonnie Blue Flag ♦ BOUNTY JUMPER’S LAMENT ♦ That bears a single star. — CHORUS

And here's to old Virginia— By W. Arlington, ca. 1866 The Old Dominion State— Sung to the tune of Tramp, Tramp, Tramp Who with the young Confederacy At length has linked her fate; In my prison cell I stand, Impelled by her example, Thinking of you, Mary Ann Now other states prepare And the gay old times we've had To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag In days before That bears a single star. — CHORUS When my sock was lined with tin Then cheer, boys, cheer; And I thought it was no sin Raise the joyous shout, For to jump a bounty For Arkansas and North Carolina Every week or more. Now have both gone out; (CHORUS) Tramp, tramp, tramp, the guard is coming And let another rousing cheer Even now I hear them at my door For Tennessee be given, So goodbye, my Mary Ann, The single star of the Bonnie Blue Flag You must do the best you can Has grown to be eleven. — CHORUS For I'll never jump a bounty any more.

Then here's to our Confederacy, Oh the gay old days and nights, Strong are we and brave; That we passed in fond delights Like patriots of old we'll fight When my pockets they Our heritage to save. Were brimming full of cash And rather than submit to shame, And with oysters, cake and wine, To die we would prefer; We had such a bully time So cheer for the Bonnie Blue Flag But I'm satisfied in dreaming now of hash. – Chorus That bears a single star. — CHORUS Oh, goodbye, my Mary Ann, I am now an altered man And I go away from you I love so well Tell the boys to all "look out," And to mind what they're about Or the provost guard will get them Sure as hell. – CHORUS

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 3

The first is richly loaded with chickens, goose, and duck, The rest with pork and mutton, the third with good old ♦ BRASS MOUNTED ARMY ♦ buck.

Author Unknown, ca. 1864-1865 Chorus Sung to the tune of Wait for the Wagon Our generals eat the poultry, and buy it very cheap,

Our colonels and our majors devour the hog and sheep; Oh soldiers, I've concluded to make a little song, The privates are contented (except when they can steal), And if I tell no falsehood there can be nothing wrong, With beef and corn bread plenty to make a hearty meal. If any be offended at what I have to sing, Then surely his own conscience applies the bitter sting. Chorus Sometimes we get so hungry that we're bound to press a Chorus – Oh, how do you like the Army pig, The brass-mounted Army, Then the largest stump in Dixie we're sure to have to dig The high-falutin' Army, And when we fret, an officer who wears long-legged boots, Where eagle buttons rule? With neither judge nor jury, puts us on "double roots."

Whisky is a monster, and ruins great and small, Chorus But in our noble Army, Headquarters gets it all; These things, and many others, are truly hard to me, They drink it when there's danger, although it seems too But still I'll be contented, and fight for Liberty! hard, And when the war is over, oh what a jolly time! But if a private touches it, they put him "under guard." We'll be our own commanders and sing much sweeter Chorus rhymes. Chorus And when we meet the ladies, we're bound to go it sly, Headquarters are the pudding, and the privates are the pie! We'll see our loving sweethearts, and sometimes kiss them, They issue standing orders to keep us all in line, too, For if we had a showing, the brass would fail to shine. We'll eat the finest rations, and bid old buck adieu, There'll be no generals with orders to compel, Chorus Long boots and eagle buttons, forever fare ye well!

At every big plantation or negro-holder's yard, Final Chorus – And thus we'll leave the Army, Just to save the property, the general puts a guard; The brass-mounted Army, The sentry's then instructed to let no private pass - The high-falutin' Army, The rich man's house and table are fixed to suit the "brass." Where eagle buttons rule.

Chorus

I have to change this story, so beautiful and true, But the poor man and widow must have a line or two; For them no guard is stationed, their fences oft are burned, And property molested, as long ago you've learned.

Chorus

The Army's now much richer than when the war begun, It furnishes three tables where once it had but one;

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 4 So handsome effer I see: I makes to her von ferry callant pow -- Put ah! She schpits on me. – CHORUS ♦ CORPORAL SCHNAPPS ♦ "Hart times!" You say, "what for you folunteer?" By Henry C. Work, ca. 1864 I told you, friend, what for: Mine schweet-heart, von goot patriotic kirl, Mine heart ish proken into little pits, She trove me off mit der war. I tells you friend what for; Alas! Alas! Mine bretty little von Mine schweet-heart, von coot patriotic kirl, Vill schmile no more on me; She trives me off mit der war. Put schtill I fights de pattles of te flag I fights for her der pattles of te flag, To set mine countries free. – CHORUS I schtrikes so prave as I can;

Put now long time she nix remempers me, And coes mit another man. ♦ DE BOATMAN’S DANCE ♦

CHORUS – Ach! Mein fraulein! Written by Daniel D. Emmett ca. 1843 You ish so ferry unkind! You coes mit Hans to Zhermany to live, CHORUS - Hi ho, de boatmen row, And leaves poor Schnapps pehind, Floating down the river on de Ohio. And leaves poor Schnapps pehind. De boatman dance, de boatman sing, I march all tay, no matter if der schtorm de boatman up to ebry ting, Pe worse ash Moses' flood; An when de boat men gets on shore, I lays all night, mine head upon a schtump, he spends his cash and works for more, And "sinks to schleep" in der mud. REFRAIN - Den dance de boatman dance, Der nightmare comes -- I catch him ferry pad -- O’ dance de boatman dance, I treams I schleeps mit der ghost; O’ dance all night till broad daylight, I wakes next morning frozen in der ground, an go home wid de gals in de morning. - CHORUS So schtiff as von schtone post. – CHORUS De oyster boat should keep to de shore, They kives me hartpred, tougher as a rock -- De fishin smack should venture more, It almost preaks mein zhaw; De schooner sails before de wind, I schplits him sometimes mit an iron wedge, De steamboat leaves a streak behind. And cuts him up mid a saw. REFRAIN & CHORUS They kive me peef, so ferry, ferry salt, Like Sodom's wife, you know; I wen on board de odder day I surely dinks they put him in der prine To see what de boatman had to say; Von huntred year aco. – CHORUS Dar I let my passions loose An dey cram me in de callaboose. Py'n py we takes von city in der south -- REFRAIN & CHORUS We schtays there von whole year; I kits me sourcrout, much as I can eat, I've come dis time, I'll come no more, Und blenty loccar pier. Let me loose I'll go on shore; I meets von laty repel in der schtreet, For dey whole hoss, and dey a bully crew

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 5 Wid a hoosier mate as captin too. She got my card, an wrote me a letter, REFRAIN & CHORUS And ebery word she spelt de better, For ebery word and ebery line, When you go to de boatman's ball, Was Dandy Jim of Caroline. - CHORUS Dance wid my wife, or dont dance at all; Sky blue jacket an tarpaulin hat, Oh, beauty is but skin deep, Look out my boys for de nine tail cat. But wid Miss Dinah none compete; She changed her name from lubly Dine, REFRAIN & CHORUS To Mrs. Dandy Jim of Caroline. - CHORUS De boatman is a thrifty man, An ebery little nig she had, Dars none can do as de boatman can; Was de berry image ob de dad, I neber a see putty gal in my life Dar heels stick out three feet behind, But dat she was a boatman's wife. Like Dandy Jim of Caroline. - CHORUS REFRAIN & CHORUS I took dem all to church one day, When de boatman blows his horn, An hab dem christen'd widout delay, Look out old man your hog is gone; De preacher christen'd eight or nine, He cotch my sheep, he cotch my shoat, Young Dandy Jims of Caroline. - CHORUS Den put em in a bag an toat em to de boat. An when de preacher took his text, REFRAIN & CHORUS He seemed to be berry much perplexed, For nothing cum across his mind, But Dandy Jim of Caroline. - CHORUS ♦ DANDY JIM FROM CAROLINE ♦

Written by Silas Sexton ca. 1843 IXIE NION ♦ D (U ) ♦

I've often heard it said ob late, By Anonymous, ca. 1861-1865 Dat Souf Ca'lina was de state, Whar handsome nigga's bound to shine, Away down South in the land of traitors, Like Dandy Jim of Caroline, Rattlesnakes and alligators, Right away, come away, right away, come away. CHORUS - For my ole massa tole me, Where cotton's king and men are chattels, I'm de best looking nigga in de county oh, Union boys will win the battles, I look in de glass, as I found it so, Right away, come away, right away, come away. Just as massa tell me, oh.

I drest myself from top to toe, CHORUS - Then we'll all go down to Dixie, Away, away, And down to Dinah I did go, Each Dixie boy must understand Wid pantaloons strapped down behind, That he must mind his Uncle Sam, Like Dandy Jim of Caroline. - CHORUS Away, away, And we'll all go down to Dixie. Away, away, And we'll all go down to Dixie. De bull dog cleared me out ob de yard, I taught I'd better leabe my card, I wish I was in Baltimore, I tied it fast to a piece ob twine, I'd make Secession traitors roar, Signed "Dandy Jim of Caroline." - CHORUS Right away, come away, right away, come away.

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 6 We'll put the traitors all to rout. Smiled as fierce as a forty-pounder! I'll bet my boots we'll whip them out, Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixie's Land! Right away, come away, right away, come away. CHORUS CHORUS – Then they'll wish they were in Dixie, Away, away, His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaver; Each Dixie boy must understand But that did not seem to grieve her! That he must mind his Uncle Sam, Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixie's Land! Away, away, And we'll all go down to Dixie. Old Missus acted the foolish part Away, away, And we'll all go down to Dixie. And died for a man that broke her heart! Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixie's Land! Oh, may our Stars and Stripes still wave Forever o'er the free and brave, CHORUS Right away, come away, right away, come away. Now here's a health to the next old missus And let our motto ever be -- And all the gals that want to kiss us! "For Union and for Liberty!" Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixie's Land! Right away, come away, right away, come away. But if you want to drive away sorrow, CHORUS – Then they'll wish they were in Dixie, Away, Come and hear this song tomorrow! away, Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixie's Land! Each Dixie boy must understand CHORUS That he must mind his Uncle Sam, Away, away, And we'll all go down to Dixie. There's buckwheat cakes and Injin batter, Away, away, And we'll all go down to Dixie. Makes you fat or a little fatter!

Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixie's Land! Then hoe it down and scratch your gravel, ♦ DIXIE’S LAND ♦ To Dixie's Land I'm bound to travel! Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixie's Land! By Daniel D. Emmett, ca. 1859

CHORUS I wish I was in the land of cotton, Old times there are not forgotten; Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixie's Land! In Dixie's Land where I was born in, Early on one frosty morning, Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixie's Land!

CHORUS – Then I wish I was in Dixie! Hooray! Hooray! In Dixie's Land I'll take my stand, to live and die in Dixie! Away! Away! Away down South in Dixie! Away! Away! Away down South in Dixie!

Old Missus married "Will the Weaver"; William was a gay deceiver! Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixie's Land! But when he put his arm around her,

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 7 And the rebels put to rout; And Beauregard the chivalrous, ♦ DOWN IN ALABAMA ♦ He ran to save his bacon— When he saw General Sherman’s “Yanks,” Written by J. Warner ca. 1858; the song is also known as “Ain’t I Glad I And “Charleston is taken!” Got Out De Wilderness.” With a whack, rowdy-dow, My old massa he's got the droser, um, A hunkey boy is General Sherman, he'd got the dropser, um, Whack, rowdy-dow, he'd got the dropser, um, Invincible is he! He am sure to die 'kase he's got no doctor, um, This South Carolina chivalry, Down in Alabam'. They once did loudly boast, CHORUS - Aint I glad I got out de wilderness, That the footsteps of a Union man, Got out de wilderness, Should ne’er pollute their coast. Got out de wilderness They’d fight the Yankees two to one, Ain't I glad I got out de wilderness, Who only fought for booty, Down in Alabam'. But when the “mudsills” came along it was “Legs, Do your duty!” Old blind horse come from Jerusalem, Come from Jerusalum, With a whack, rowdy-dow, Come from Jerusalum Babylon is fallen, He kicks so high dey put him in de museum, Whack, rowdy-dow, Down in Alabam'. - CHORUS The end is drawing near! And from the “Sacred City,” Dis am a holiday, we hab assembled, um, This valiant warlike throng; We hab assembled, um, Skedaddled in confusion, We hab assembled, um Although thirty thousand strong— To dance and sing for de ladies and genbleum, Without a shot, without a blow, Down in Alabam'. – CHORUS Or least sign of resistance, Far you well to de wild goose nation, And leaving their poor friends behind, Wild goose nation, With the “Yankees” for assistance! Wild goose nation, With a whack, rowdy-dow, I neber will leab de old plantation, How are you, Southern chivalry? Down in Alabam'. – CHORUS Whack, rowdy-dow, Your race is nearly run!

And again o’er Sumter’s battered walls, ♦ THE FALL OF CHARLESTON ♦ The Stars and Stripes do fly, Author Unknown While the chivalry of Sixty-one In the “Last ditch” died;— With Sherman, Grant and Porter too, Oh have you heard the glorious news, To lead our men to glory, Is the cry from every mouth, We’ll squash poor Jeff’s confederacy, Charleston is taken, And then get “Hunkydory!”

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 8 With a whack, rowdy-dow, To win a name in story, How are you, neutral Johnny Bull? And there, where dawns the sun of day, Whack, rowdy-dow, There dawned our sun of glory; We’ll settle next with you! Both blazed in neon on Richmond's height,

Where in the post assigned me, I shared the glory of that fight, ♦ GARRY OWEN ♦ Sweet girl I left behind me.

Full many a name our banners bore Author Unknown, written ca. 1788 Of former deeds of daring, But they were of the days of yore, Let Bacchus' sons be not dismayed In which we had no sharing; But join with me, each jovial blade But now our laurels freshly won Come, drink and sing and lend your aid With the old ones shall entwine me, To help me with the chorus. Singing worthy of our sires and sons CHORUS - Instead of spa, we'll drink brown ale Sweet girl I left behind me. And pay the reckoning on the nail; The hope of final victory, No man for debt shall go to jail Within my bosom burning, From Garryowen in glory. Is mingling with sweet thoughts of thee We'll beat the bailiffs out of fun, And of my fond returning, We'll make the mayor and sheriffs run But should I ne'er return again, We are the boys no man dares dun Still worth thy love thou'll find me, Dishonor'd thought shall never stain If he regards a whole skin. - CHORUS The name I’ll leave behind me. Our hearts so stout have got no fame For soon 'tis known from whence we came Where'er we go they fear the name ♦ GLENDY BURK ♦

Of Garryowen in glory. - CHORUS Written by Stephen C. Foster, ca. 1860

De Glendy Burk is mighty fast boat, ♦ GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME ♦ Wid a mighty fast captain too; He sits up dah on de hurricane roof Written by Samuel Lover, ca. 1840 And he keeps his eye on de crew.

I cant stay here, for dey work too hard; The hour was sad, I left the maid, I'm bound to leave dis town; A ling'ring farewell taking, I'll take my duds and tote 'em on my back Her sighs and tears my steps delayed, When de Glendy Burk comes down I thought her heart was breaking; In hurried words her name I blest, CHORUS - Ho! for Lou'siana! I breathed the vows that bind me, I'm bound to leave dis town; And to my heart in anguish pressed I'll take my duds and tote 'em on my back The girl I left behind me. When de Glendy Burk comes down.

Then to the South we bore away, De Glendy Burk has a funny old crew

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 9 And dey sing de boatman's song, Just before the battle, the General hears a row; Dey burn de pitch and de pine know too, He says "The Yanks are coming, I hear their rifles now"! For to shove de boat along. He turns around in wonder, and what do you think he sees? De smoke goes up and de ingine roars The Georgia Militia, eating goober peas! And de wheel goes round and round, CHORUS So fair you well! for I'll take a little ride When de Glendy Burk comes down. - CHORUS I think my song had lasted almost long enough! The subject's interesting, but rhymes are mighty rough! I'll work all night in de wind and storm, I wish this war was over, when free from rags and fleas, I'll work all day in de rain, We'd kiss our wives and sweethearts and goble goober 'Till I find myself on de levydock peas! In New Orleans again. Dey make me mow in de hay field here CHORUS

And knock my head wid de flail, I'll go wha dey work wid de sugar and de cane And roll on de cotten bale. – CHORUS ♦ GRAFTED INTO THE ARMY ♦

My lady love is as pretty as a pink, By Henry C. Work, ca. 1862 I'll meet her on de way I'll take her back to de sunny old sough Our Jimmy has gone for to live in a tent, And day I'll make her stay They have grafted him into the army; So dont you fret my honey dear, He finally pucker'd up his courage and went, Oh! dont you fret Miss Brown When they grafted him into the army. I'll take you back 'fore de middle of de week I told them he was too young, alas! When de Glendy Burk comes down. – CHORUS At the captain's forequarters, they said he would pass. They'd train him up well in the infantry class, ♦ GOOBER PEAS ♦ So they grafted him into the army.

By A. Pinder, ca. 1862 CHORUS – Oh, Jimmy, farewell! Your brothers fell Way down in Alabarmy; Sittin' by the roadside on a summer's day, I thought they would spare a lone widder's heir, Chattin' with my messmates, passing time away, But they grafted him into the army. Lying in the shadows, underneath the trees -- Drest up in his unicorn -- dear little chap; Goodness, how delicious, eating goober peas! They have grafted him into the army; It seems but a day since he sot in my lap, (CHORUS) Peas! Peas! Peas! Peas! Eating goober peas! But they grafted him into the army. Goodness, how delicious, eating goober peas! And these are the trousies he used to wear -- When a horseman passes, the soldiers have a rule Them very same buttons -- the patch and the tear -- To cry out at their loudest "Mister, here's your mule!" But Uncle Sam gave him a bran' new pair But still another pleasure enchantinger than these When they grafted him into the army. – CHORUS Is wearing out your grinders, eating goober peas! Now in my provisions I see him revealed -- CHORUS They have grafted him into the army; A picket beside the contented field.

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 10 They have grafted him into the army. He looks kinda sickish -- begins to cry -- A big volunteer standing right in his eye! On, what if the ducky should up and die Now they've grafted him into the army. – CHORUS

♦ HARD TACK COME AGAIN NO MORE ♦

By Anonymous Sung to the tune of Hard Times Come Again No More

Let us close our game of poker, take our tin cups in our hand As we all stand by the cook's tent door As dried monies of hard crackers are handed to each man. ♦ HARD TIMES COME AGAIN NO MORE ♦ O, hard tack, come again no more!

CHORUS – 'Tis the song, the sigh of the hungry: Written by Stephen C. Foster, ca. 1854

"Hard tack, hard tack, come again no more." Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears Many days you have lingered upon our stomachs sore. While we all sup sorrow with the poor; O, hard tack, come again no more! There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;-- 'Tis a hungry, thirsty soldier who wears his life away Oh! Hard Times come again no more. In torn clothes--his better days are o'er. CHORUS - 'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary;-- And he's sighing now for whiskey in a voice as dry as hay, Hard Times, Hard Times, come again no more. "O, hard tack, come again no more!" – CHORUS Many days you have lingered around my cabin door; 'Tis the wail that is heard in camp both night and day, Oh! Hard Times, come again no more. 'Tis the murmur that's mingled with each snore. While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay 'Tis the sighing of the soul for spring chickens far away, There are frail forms fainting at the door; "O, hard tack, come again no more!" – CHORUS Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say But to all these cries and murmurs, there comes a sudden Oh! Hard Times, come again no more. - CHORUS hush There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away As frail forms are fainting by the door, With a worn heart whose better days are o'er; For they feed us now on horse feed that the cooks call mush! Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day-- O, hard tack, come again once more! Oh! Hard Times, come again no more. - CHORUS CHORUS – 'Tis the dying wail of the starving: 'Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave, "O, hard tack, hard tack, come again once more!" 'Tis a wail that is hear upon the shore, You were old and very wormy, but we pass your failings o'er. 'Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave,-- O, hard tack, come again once more! Oh! Hard Times, come again no more. – CHORUS

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 11

CHORUS To thee, I'll return, overburdened with care, ♦ A HEALTH TO THE COMPANY ♦ The heart's dearest solcae will smile on me there. No more from that cottage again will I roam, Author Unknown, pre 1770 Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme CHORUS Come lift up your voices in chorus with mine Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain For we may and might never all meet here again ♦ HOW ARE YOU TELEGRAPH ♦

CHORUS By W. Collins, date unknown Here's a health to the company and one to my lass Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass John came in excellent style, to be sure, Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain With banner and brand came he; For we may and might never all meet here again His clattering hoofs made a terrible roar, Here's a health to the dear lass that I love so well And his cannon numbering three. Her style and her beauty, sure none can excel The Hoosiers were scared, so entered the race, There's a smile upon her countenance as she sits upon my What a rowdyish set were they; knee And the Buckeyes mounted to join in the chase, Sure there's no one in in this wide world as happy as we As Johnny galloped their way. CHORUS CHORUS – Ho! gather your flocks and sound the alarm Our ship lies at harbor, she's ready to dock For the Partisan Rangers have come; I hope she's safe landed without any shock Bold knights of the road, they scour each farm If ever we should meet again by land or by sea And scamper at tap of the drum. I will always remember your kindness to me How are you, Telegraph? CHORUS The snow is in the clouds, And night is gathering o'er us; ♦ HOME, SWEET HOME ♦ The winds are piping loud, And fan the flames before us. By John H. Payne, ca. 1823 Then join the jovial band, And tune the vocal organ; 'Mid pleasures and palaces though I may roam, And with a will we'll all join in, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; Three cheers for John Hunt Morgan! – CHORUS A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there, Which, seek thro' the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Jack Morgan is his name, The fearless and the lucky. – Home! Home! Sweet, sweet home! CHORUS No dastard foe can tame There's no place like home, there's no place like home. This son of old Kentucky. An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain, His heart is with his state; Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again; He fights for Southern freedom; The birds singing gaily that come at my call; His men their general's word await, Give me them, with that peace of mind, dearer than all. They'll go where he will lead 'em. – CHORUS

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 12 Because I was jilted you know, So right down to the river I ran To quickly dispose of my woe, A good friend he gave me advice And timely prevented the splash, Now at home I’ve a wife and ten heirs, And all through a handsome moustache, ♦ IF I ONLY HAD A MUSTACHE ♦ A moustache, a moustache,

And all through a handsome moustache.

By Stephen Foster, ca. 1864.

Oh! all of you poor single men, ♦ THE INVALID’S ♦ Don’t ever give up in despair, For there’s always a chance while there’s life Author Unknown, ca. 1863 To capture the hearts of the fair, I wanted much to go to war, No matter what may be your age, And went to be examined; You always may cut a fine dash, The surgeon looked me o'er and o'er, You will suit all the girls to a hair My back and chest he hammered. If you’ve only got a moustache, Said he, "You're not the man for me, A moustache, a moustache, Your lungs are much affected, If you’ve only got a moustache. And likewise both your eyes are cock'd, No matter for manners or style, And otherwise defected." No matter for birth or for fame, All these used to have something to do Chorus - So, now I'm with the invalids, With young ladies changing their name, And cannot go and fight, sir! There’s no reason now to despond, The doctor told me so, you know, Or go and do any thing rash, Of course it must be right, sir! For you’ll do though you can’t raise a cent, While I was there a host of chaps If you’ll only raise a moustache! For reasons were exempted, A moustache, a moustache, Old "pursy", he was laid aside, If you’ll only raise a moustache. To pass he had attempted. Your head may be thick as a block, The doctor said, "I do not like And empty as any foot-ball, Your corporosity, sir! Oh! your eyes may be green as the grass You'll "breed a famine" in the camp Your heart just as hard as a wall. Wherever you might be, sir!" – Chorus Yet take the advice that I give, There came a fellow, mighty tall, You’ll soon gain affection and cash, A "knock-kneed overgrowner", And will be all the rage with the girls, The Doctor said, "I ain't got time If you’ll only get a moustache, To take and look you over." A moustache, a moustache, Next came along a little chap, If you’ll only get a moustache. Who was 'bout two foot nothing, I once was in sorrow and tears The Doctor said, "You'd better go

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 13 And tell your marm you're coming!" – Chorus Now dey both are dead and gone, Left ole Sambo hoeing out de corn – CHORUS Some had the ticerdolerreou, Some what they call "brown critters", Old Massa, and Misses; And some were "lank and lazy" too, Da left home one morn'ing right about day; Some were too "fond of bitters". And den you har dat nigger say, Soime had "cork legs" and some "one eye", Gi me down de banjo and let de nigger play! – CHORUS With backs deformed and crooked, I'll bet you'd laugh'd till you had cried, You eat me sugar, and drink my tea, And ran about de old field and talk about me; To see how "cute" they looked. – Chorus Dare was a nigger in de gutter and turned right about And up stept Jo and got his gun, – CHORUS

♦ JENNY GET YOUR HOECAKES DONE ♦ Dare was a frog jumped out de spring, It was so cold he couldn't sing, Written by Joel W. Sweeney, ca. 1840 He tied his tail to a hickory stump,

He rared an pitched but he couldn't make a jump, - De hen and chickens went to roost, CHORUS De hawk flew down and hit de goose He hit de ole hen in de back The old hen and chickens at the stack, I really believe dam am a fac, And old hawk flew down amongst de pack, And struck the old hen whack a-middle ob de hack, CHORUS - Oh, Jenny get de hoe cake done my dear, And I really do believe dat tis a fact. - CHORUS Oh, Jenny get de hoe cake done. Now white folks, I'd hab you to know, As I was gwain lond de road, Dare is no music like de old banjo, Past a stump dar wad a toad. And if you want to hear it ring, De tadpole winked at Pollewog's daughter, Jist watch this finger on de string. – CHORUS And kick'd de bull frog plump in de water. - CHORUS

High heel boot widout any strap, ♦ JIM ALONG JOSEY ♦ Hand me down my leghorn hat, Ise gwine to de Astor House to dine, Written by Edward Harper, ca. 1840 I won't be back till half past nine - CHORUS I'se from Lucianna as you all know, Massa and Missus gwain away, Dar whar Jim along Josey's all de go, Left home for de break ob day, Dem niggars all rise when de bell does ring, Den you har de white folks say, And dis is de song dat dey sing. Stan clar and det de banjo play - CHORUS CHORUS - Hey get along, get along Josey, Apple cider, un percimmon beer, Hey get along, Jim along Joe! Christmas comes but once a year, Ginger puddin and pumkin pie, Oh! likewise a new pair tight-knee'd trousaloons, Gray cat kick dat black cat's eye – CHORUS Den I walks up and down broadway wid my Suzanna, And de white folks will take me to be Santa Anna. - Massa un Misse promise me When dey died to set me free,

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 14 CHORUS With four bay horses hitch'd up in front, To tote his money to de oder side ob Jordan. – CHORUS My sister Rose de oder night did dream, Dat she was floating up and down de stream, David and Giliath both had a fight, And when she woke she began to cry, A cullud man come up behind 'em, And de white cat picked out de black cat's eye. His hit Goliath on de head wid a bar of soft soap, CHORUS And it sounded to de oder side ob Jordan. – CHORUS

Now way down South not very far off, If I was de legislator ob dese United States, A Bullfrog died wid de hooping cough, I'd settle de fish question accordin', And de oder side of Mississippi as you must know, I'd give de British all de bone and de Yankees all de meat, Dar's where I was christen'd Jim along Joe. And stretch de boundary line to de oder side ob Jordan. – CHORUS CHORUS

The New York niggers tink dey're fine, ♦ KEEMO KIMO ♦ Because dey drink de genuine, De Southern niggers dey lib on mush, As sung by P.H. Keenen, ca. 1854 And when dey laugh dey say Oh Hush. CHORUS In South Car'lina de darkies go Sing song Kitty cant you ki' me oh! I'm de nigger that don't mind my troubles, Dats whar de white folks plant de tow Because dey are nothing more dan bubbles, Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me, oh! De ambition that dis nigger feels Cover de ground all over wid smoke Is showing de science of his heels. Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me, oh! CHORUS And up de darkies heads dey poke

Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me oh.

♦ JORDAN IS A HARD ROAD TO TRABEL ♦ CHORUS - Keemo Ki'mo! -- Dar! oh whar? Wid my hi, my ho, and in come Sally singing Composed by Daniel D. Emmett, ca. 1853 Some times penny winkle, lingtum, nipcat --

Sing song Kitty cant you ki' me oh. I just arrived in town, for to pass de time away, And I settled all my bisness accordin', Milk in de dairy nine days old, But I found it so cold when up de street, Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me oh. Dat I wish'd I was on de oder side ob Jordan. Frogs and de skeeters getting mighty bold-- Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me oh! CHORUS Dey try for to sleep but it ain't no use So take off your coat, boys, Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me oh. And roll up your sleaves, Dere legs hang out for de chickens to roost For Jordan is a hard road to trabel; Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me oh! – CHORUS So take off your coat, boys, And roll up your sleaves, Dar was a frog lived in a pool, For Jordan is a hard road to trabel I believe. Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me oh! Sure he was de biggest fool-- I look to the East, I look to the West, Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me oh! And I see, ole Massa a comin', For he could dance and he could sing

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 15 Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me oh! ♦ THE MINSTREL BOY ♦ And make de woods around him ring Sing song Kitty cant you Ki' me oh. – CHORUS By Thomas Moore, ca. 1798

The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone ♦ KINGDOM COMING ♦ In the ranks of death you will find him; His father's sword he hath girded on, By Henry Clay Work, ca. 1862 And his wild harp slung behind him; "Land of Song!" said the warrior bard, Say, darkies, hab you seen de massa, wid de muffstash on his face, "Tho' all the world betrays thee, Go long de road some time dis mornin', like he gwine to leab One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, de place? One faithful harp shall praise thee!" He seen a smoke way up de ribber, whar de Linkum gunboats lay; The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain He took his hat, and lef' berry sudden, and I spec' he's run Could not bring that proud soul under; away! The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again, (CHORUS) De massa run, ha, ha! De darkey stay, ho, ho! For he tore its chords asunder; It mus' be now de kindom coming, an' de year ob Jubilo! And said "No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and brav'ry! He six foot one way, two foot tudder, and he weigh tree Thy songs were made for the pure and free, hundred pound, His coat so big, he couldn't pay the tailor, an' it won't go They shall never sound in slavery!" halfway round. The Minstrel Boy will return, we pray; He drill so much dey call him Cap'n, an' he got so drefful tanned, When we hear the news, we all will cheer it, I spec' he try an' fool dem Yankees for to tink he's The minstrel boy will return one day, contraband. Torn perhaps in body, not in spirit. Then may he play on his harp in peace, CHORUS In a world such as Heaven intended, De darkeys feel so lonesome libbing in de loghouse on de For all the bitterness of man must cease, lawn, And ev'ry battle must be ended. Dey move dar tings into massa's parlor for to keep it while he's gone. Dar's wine an' cider in de kitchen, an' de darkeys dey'll have some; I s'pose dey'll all be cornfiscated when de Linkum sojers come.

CHORUS De obserseer he make us trouble, an' he dribe us round a spell; We lock him up in de smokehouse cellar, wid de key trown in de well. De whip is lost, de han'cuff broken, but de massa'll hab his pay; He's ole enough, big enough, ought to known better dan to went an' run away.

CHORUS

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 16 ♦ MONEY IS A HARD THING TO BORROW ♦ ♦ MR. HERE’S YOUR MULE ♦

As sung by the Campbell Minstrels, ca. 1854 Written by C.D. Benson, ca. 1862

Sung to the tune of Hard Times Come Again No More A Farmer came to camp one day, The times are so “tight” for the cash is hard to get, With milk and eggs to sell, Though all hope they’ll have some tomorrow Upon a mule who oft would stray, And ev’ry one looks “blue” and are in such a pet, To where no one could tell. Finding money is a hard thing to borrow. The Farmer, tired of his tramp, For hours was made the fool, CHORUS By everyone he met in camp, So take down your “shingle” and shut up your shop, With "Mister, here's your mule." For money is a hard thing to borrow, So take down your “shingle” and shut up your shop, CHORUS - Come on, come on, For money is a hard thing to borrow. Come on, old man, And don't be made a fool, The banker he looks brave as you ask him for the “chink,” By everyone you meet in camp, But he pays our the “ready” with sorrow, With "Mister, here's your mule." For he cannot stand a “run” and he now begins to think That money is a hard thing to borrow. His eggs and chickens all were gone Before the break of day, The Merchant is cast down with loaded shelves in view, The "Mule" was heard of all along, And no customer buys to his sorrow That's what the soldiers say. For soon from New York he will get a billet doux, And still he hunted all day long, For money is a hard thing to borrow. Alas! the witless fool, The politician stares, office costs a mighty “lump,” Whil'st every man would sing the song And the mouth of his purse is so narrow. Of "Mister, here's your mule." - CHORUS It was just to get some cash, that he got upon the stump, Knowing money is a hard thing to borrow. The soldiers ran in laughing mood, On mischief were intent; The whiskey maker sighs, for the drough has kill’d the corn They lifted "Muley" on their back, And he lood on his prospects with horror, Around from tent to tent. For he knows his friends won’t stick when he hasn’t got a Thro' this hole, and that, they push'd “horn,” His head, -- And made a rule, Finding money is a hard thing to borrow. To shout with humerous voices all, But honest men ne’er fear, though there come a mighty crash I say" "Mister, here's your mule!" - CHORUS And a note should fall due on the morrow. Alas! one day the mule was miss'd, Just call on your friends, they will spare a little cash, Ah! who could tell his fate? They money is a hard thing to borrow. The Farmer like a man bereft, CHORUS Search'd early and search'd late, You can keep up your “shingle” and open up your shop, And as he pass'd from camp to camp Though money is a hard thing to borrow. With stricken face -- the fool You can keep up your “shingle” and open up your shop, Cried out to everyone he met, Though money is a hard thing to borrow. Oh! "Mister, where's my Mule." – CHORUS

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 17 ♦ NELLY BLY ♦ ♦ NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS ♦

By Stephen C. Foster, ca. 1850 Author Unknown, ca. 1862

Nelly Bly! Nelly Bly! 'Twas in the days of seventy-six Bring de broom along, When freemen young and old We'll sweep de kitchen clean, my dear, All fought for Independence then And hab a little song. Each hero brave and bold! Poke de wood, my lady lub, 'Twas then the noble Stars and Stripes And make de fire burn, In triumph did appear And while I take de banjo down, And defended by brave patriots Just gib de mush a turn. The Yankee Volunteers 'Tis my delight to march and fight CHORUS Like a New York Volunteer! Heigh! Nelly, Ho! Nelly, listen lub, to me, I'll sing for you, play for you, a dulcem melody. Now, there's our City Regiments Heigh! Nelly, Ho! Nelly, listen lub, to me, Just see what they have done: I'll sing for you, play for you, a dulcem melody. The first to offer to the State Nelly Bly hab a voice To go to Washington Like de turtle dove, To protect the Federal Capital I hears it in de meadow, And the flag they love so dear! And I hears it in de grove: And they've done their duty nobly, Nelly Bly hab a heart Like New York Volunteers! Warm as cup ob tea, 'Tis my delight to march and fight And bigger dan de sweet potatoe Like a New York Volunteer! Down in Tennessee. – CHORUS The Rebels out in Maryland Nelly Bly shuts her eye They madly raved and swore, When she goes to sleep, They'd let none of our Union troops When she wakens up again Pass through Baltimore Her eye-balls 'gin to peep: But the Massachusetts Regiment De way she walks, she lifts her foot, No traitors did they fear And den she brings it down, But fought their way to Washington And when it lights der's music dah Like Yankee Volunteers! In dat part ob de town. – CHORUS 'Tis my delight to march and fight Nelly Bly! Nelly Bly! Like a New York Volunteer! Neber, nebber sigh, Nebber bring de tear-drop To de corner ob your eye, For de pie is made ob punkins And de mush is made of corn, And der's corn and punkins plenty, lub, A lyin' in de barn. – CHORUS

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 18 ♦ OH LEMUEL ♦ ♦ OLD DAN TUCKER ♦

By Stephen C. Foster, ca. 1850 By Daniel D. Emmett, ca. 1843, as sung by the Virginia Minstrels

Oh! Lemuel my lark, I come to town de udder night, Oh Lemuel my beau, I hear de noise an saw de fight, I's guine to gib a ball to night, De watchman was a runnin roun, I'd hab you for to know; crying Old Dan Tucker's come to town, But if you want to dance, – So get out de way, Ole Dan Tucker, Just dance outside de door; CHORUS Becayse your feet so berry large get our de way, Old Dan Tucker, Dey'll cover all de floor. get our de way, Old Dan Tucker, Oh! Lem! Lem! Lem! You're too late to come to supper. Lemuel I say! Tucker is a nice old man, Go down to de cotten field, He use to ride our darby ram; And bring de boys away. He sent him whizzen down de hill, If he hadn't got up he'd lay dar still. – CHORUS (two times) Go down to de cotten field! CHORUS Go down, I say! Here's my razor in good order Go down and call de Nigga boys all, Magnum bonum--jis hab bought 'er; We'll work no more to day Sheep shell oats, Tucker shell de corn, Oh! Lemuel my hope, I'll shabe you soon as de water get warm. – CHORUS Oh! Lemuel my joy Ole Dan Tucker an I got drunk, I'll tell you who'll be at de ball He fell in de fire an kick up a chunk, My woolly headed boy. De charcoal got inside he shoe Dere's Nelly Bly, you know, Lor bless you honey how de ashes flew. – CHORUS And Juliana Snow, Dere's cane-brake Kitty likes de boys, Down de road foremost de stump, Ans she'll be sure to go. Massa make me work de pump; Oh! Lem! Lem! Lemuel I say! I pump so hard I broke de sucker, Go down to de cotten field and bring de boys away. – Chorus Dar was work for ole Dan Tucker. – CHORUS

Oh! Lemuel is tall, I went to town to buy some goods Oh! Lemuel is fair, I lost myself in a piece of woods, Oh! Lemuel has gone to day De night was dark I had to suffer, To take de morning air. It froze de heel of Daniel Tucker. – CHORUS He makes de fiddle hum, He makes de banjo tum, Tucker was a hardened sinner, He rattles on de old jaw bone, He neber said his grace at dinner; And beats upon de drum. De ole sow squeel, de pigs did squall Oh! Lem! Lem! Lemuel I say! He 'hole hog wid de tail and all. – CHORUS Go down to de cotten field and bring de boys away. – Chorus

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 19 ♦ OLD KING CROW ♦ Way down in de low groun fiel 3, 4 mile from Pompey's heel. By Anthony F. Winnemore, ca. 1847 Dey took me out on a tater hill Now gemmen hear what I'se gwoin to say, Dey make ne dance against my will, It am a fac and dat you know, I dance all roun de tater hole It cum for pass on a weary fine day, De niggers punch me wid a pole. And its all about an "Ole King Crow!" Down de riber I spied a ship, (REFRAIN sung after each verse) I slid down on my under lip, Old King Crow; Hop on board an cross de drink, He's de blackest tief I know, It make de niggers gizzard wind. He neber says nuffin CHORUS – Ring de hoop! an blow de horn! But Caw! Caw! Caw! Nebher felt do glad sinc I was born; (SAMBO) – Jenny get yer hoe cake Way down in de low groun fiel (JENNY) – Oh! don't bother me 3, 4 mile from Pompey's heel. (SAMBO) – Fetch along de hoecake (JENNY) – I tell you taint done. To Boston port I den sail roun, (SAMBO) – Will you bring de hoecake! Dey said de Dickens was in town; (JENNY) – G'long dont bother me, I as dem who de Dickens was I'll fotch along de hoecake Dey sed 'twas massa Pickwick Bos. Soon it am done. CHORUS – Ring de hoop! an blow de horn! I went out in de old corn field, Mass Dickens eat de corn, Someting holler hulloa Joe, Way down in de low groun fiel I look'd up in de old oak tree, 3, 4 mile from Pompey's heel. And dar he sot dat Old King Crow. Dey fed ole massa Box so tall Say I old crow get out ob dat, His trowsaloons dey grow too small; Before I shoot you wid my hoe, In Boston I couldnt get any pickins He nuffin said but spread his wing, Case all de victuals went to de Dickens. Den away he flew dat Old King Crow. CHORUS – Ring de bell! an sown de gong! Mass Dickens' feedin strong, ♦ OLE PEE DEE ♦ Way down in de low groun fiel

3, 4 mile from Pompey's heel. By J.P. Carter, sung by the Virginia Serenaders, ca. 1844

Souf Carlina I was born I husk de wood an chop de corn, De roastin car to de house I bring, De nigger cotch me and I sing;--

(CHORUS sung after Verses 1 & 2) Ring de hoop! blow de horn!

Cotch de niggers a stealin corn

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 20 ♦ OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY ♦ So fill me to the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all. By Thomas D’Ufry, ca. 1706 Of all the comrades e'er I had, they're sorry for my going away, Our 'prentice Tom may now refuse And all the sweethearts e'er I had , To wipe his scoundrel Master's Shoes, they wish me one more day to stay, For now he's free to sing and play But since it falls unto my lot, Over the Hills and far away. that I should go and you should not, Over the Hills and O'er the Main, I'll gently rise and softly call, To Flanders, Portugal and Spain, goodnight and joy be with you all. The queen commands and we'll obey If I had money enough to spend Over the Hills and far away. and leisure time to sit awhile, We all shall lead more happy lives There is a fair maid in this town By getting rid of brats and wives who sorely has my heart beguiled. That scold and bawl both night and day - Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips, Over the Hills and far away. I own she has my heart in thrall, So fill me to the parting glass, Over the Hills and O'er the Main, goodnight and joy be with you all. To Flanders, Portugal and Spain, The queen commands and we'll obey Over the Hills and far away. ♦ RICHMOND IS A HARD ROAD TO TRAVEL ♦

Courage, boys, 'tis one to ten, Author Unknown, ca. 1863 But we return all gentlemen All gentlemen as well as they, Would you like to hear my song? I'm afraid it's rather long, Over the hills and far away. Of the famous "On to Richmond" double trouble; Over the Hills and O'er the Main, Of the half a dozen trips and half a dozen slips To Flanders, Portugal and Spain, And the very latest bursting of the bubble. The queen commands and we'll obey 'Tis pretty hard to sing and, like a round, round ring, Over the Hills and far away. 'Tis a dreadful knotty puzzle to unravel; Though all the papers swore, when we touched Virginia's shore, That Richmond was a hard road to travel. ♦ THE PARTING GLASS ♦ CHORUS By Sir Alex Boswell, ca. 1770 Then pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeve, For Richmond is a hard road to travel. Of all the money e'er I had, Then pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeve, I spent it in good company; For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I believe. And all the harm I've ever done, First McDowell, bold and gay, set forth the shortest way alas was done to none but me; By Manassas in the pleasant summer weather And all I've done for want of wit, But unfortunately ran on a Stonewall (foolish man!) to memory now I can't recall, And had a rocky journey altogether.

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 21 And he found it rather hard to ride over Beauregard Was no faster than the slowest of slow coaches. And Johnston proved a deuce of a bother. Instead of easy ground, at Williamsburg he found 'Twas clear beyond a doubt that he didn't like the route A Longstreet indeed and nothing shorter. And a second time would have to try another. And it put him in the dumps that spades wasn't trumps And the Hills he couldn't level "as he orter!" CHORUS Then pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeve, CHORUS For Manassas is a hard road to travel. Then pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeve, Manassas gave us fits, and Bull Run made us grieve, For Longstreet is a hard road to travel. For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I believe. Lay down the shovel and throw away the spade, For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I'm afraid. Next came the Wooly Horse with an overwhelming force To march down to Richmond by the Valley, Then said Lincoln unto Pope, "You can make the trip, I But he couldn't find the road, and his onward movement hope." showed "I will save the universal Yankee nation! His campaigning was a mere shilly-shally. "To make sure of no defeat, I'll leave no lines of retreat, Then Commissary Banks, with his motley foreign ranks "And issue a famous proclamation!" Kicking up a great noise, fuss, and flurry, But that same dreaded Jackson, this fella laid his whacks on Lost the whole of his supplies and with tears in his eyes And made him, by compulsion, a seceder. From the Stonewall ran away in a hurry. Pope took rapid flight from Manassas' second fight, 'Twas his very last appearance as a leader. CHORUS Then pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeve, CHORUS For the Valley is a hard road to travel. Then pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeve, The Valley wouldn't do, and we all had to leave, Stonewall is a hard road to travel. For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I believe. Pope did his very best but was evidently sold, For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I am told. Then the great Galena came, with her portholes all aflame, And the Monitor, that famous naval wonder, Last of all Burnside, with his pontoon bridges, tried But the guns at Drury's Bluff gave them speedily enough A road no one had thought of before him, The loudest sort of reg'lar Rebel thunder. With two hundred thousand men for the Rebel slaughter The Galena was astonished and the Monitor admonished, pen Our patent shot and shell were mocked at, And the blessed Union flag waving o'er him. While the dreadful Naugatuck, by the hardest kind of luck, He met a fire like hell of canister and shell Was knocked into an ugly cocked hat. That mowed down his men with great slaughter. 'Twas a shocking sight to view, that second Waterloo, CHORUS And the river ran with more blood than water. Then pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeve, For James River is a hard road to travel. CHORUS The gunboats gave up in terror and despair, Then pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeve, For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I declare. Rappahannock is a hard road to travel. Burnside got in a trap, which caused for him to grieve, Then McClellan followed soon, both with spade and For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I believe. balloon, To try the Peninsular approaches, We are very much perplexed to know who is the next But one and all agreed that his best rate of speed To command the new Richmond expedition,

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 22 For the capital must blaze, and that in ninety days, Once I was so lucky, And Jeff and his men be sent to perdition. My massa set me free, We'll take the cursed town, and then we'll burn it down I went to old Kentucky And plunder and hang each cursed Rebel. To see what I could see; Yet the contraband was right when he told us they would I could not go no farder, fight: I turn to massa's door, "Oh, yes, massa, dey will fight like the debil!" I lub him all de harder, CHORUS I'll go away no more. – CHORUS Then pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeve, Early in de morning For Richmond is a hard road to travel. Ob a lubbly summer day, Then pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeves, My massa send me warning For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I believe. He'd like to hear me play.

On de banjo tapping, I come wid dulcem strain; ♦ RING, RING DE BANJO ♦ Massa fall a napping -- He'll nebber wake again. – CHORUS Words and Music by Stephen C. Foster, ca. 1851

My lub, I'll hab to leabe you De time is nebber dreary While de ribber's running high; If de darkey nebber groans; But I nebber can deceibe you -- De ladies nebber weary So dont you wipe your eye. Wid de rattle ob de bones: I's guine to make some money; Den come again Susanna But I'll come anodder day -- By de gaslight ob de moon; I'll come again my honey, We'll tum de old Piano If I hab to work my way. – CHORUS When de banjo's out ob tune.

Ring, ring de banjo! ♦ ROOT, HOG, OR DIE ♦ I like dat good old song, Come again my true lub, By Unknown, sung by Ordway’s Aeolians, ca. 1856 Oh! wha you been so long. Ring, ring de banjo! I'll tell you of a story that happened long ago; I like dat good old song, When the English came to America, I s'pose you all know, Come again my true lub, They couldn't whip the Yankees, I'll tell you the reason why, Oh! wha you been so long. Uncle Sam made them sing, Root hog or die.

Oh! nebber count de bubles John Bull went to Boston, as you shall plainly see, While der's water in de spring: Forty large ships, loaded clear up with tea, De darkey hab no troubles The Yankees wouldn't pay the tea tax, I'll tell the reason While he's got his song to sing. why, De beauties of creation The Yankee boys made 'em sing, Root hog or die. Will neb ber lose der charm They first met our armies on the top of Bunker hill, While I roam de old plantation When it came to fighting, I guess they got their fill, Wid my true lub on my arm. – CHORUS

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 23 The Yankee boys chased them off, I'll tell you the reason For Rose of Alabama. - CHORUS why, The Yankee boys made 'em sing, Root hog or die. Oh, arter d'rectley, by an' bye, De moon rose white as Rosey's eye, Then they met our Washington at Yorktown, Den like a young coon out so sly, There the Yankees mowed 'em down like grass from the Stole Rose ob Alabama. - CHORUS ground, Old Cornwallis gave up his sword, I'll tell you the reason I axe her set down whar she please, why, So cross my legs she took her ease, General Washington made 'em sing, Root hog or die. "It's good to go upon de knees," Then they came to Baltimore forty years ago, Says Rose ob Alabama. - CHORUS They tried to take North Point, but found it wouldn't go, De river rolled, de crickets sing, The Baltimoreans chased them off, I'll tell you the reason De lighnin' bug he flash'd his wing, why, And like a rope my arms I fling The Yankee boys made 'em sing, Root hog or die. Round Rose of Alabama. - CHORUS Then they marched their armies down to New Orleans, I his so long I cannot tell, That was the place, I think, that Jackson gave 'em beans, For Rosey seemed to like it well, They couldn't take our Cotton bales, I'll tell the reason why, My banjo in de river fell, General Jackson made 'em sing, Root hog or die. Ob Rose ob Alabama. - CHORUS Now Johnny Bull has been kicking up a fuss, He'd better keep quiet, or he'll surely make it worse, Like alligator orter prey, We're bound to have Cuba, I'll tell you the reason why, I plunge in, but it float away, For Uncle Sam will make 'em sing, Root hog or die. But all de time it seemed to say, "Oh, Rose ob Alabama." – CHORUS

And ev'ry night in moon or shower, ♦ ROSE OF ALABAMA ♦ To hunt dat banjo for an hour, Written by S.S. Steele, ca. 1846 I meet my sweet tobacco flower, My Rose of Alabama. – CHORUS Away from Mississipi's vale, Wid my ole hat dar for a sail, I cross'd upon a cotten bale, To Rose ob Alabama.

CHORUS - Oh, brown Rosey, De Rose ob Alabama, A sweet tobacco posey Is de Rose of Alabama A sweet tobacco posey Is de Rose of Alabama.

I landed on de sand bank, I sat upon a holler plank, An' dare I made the banjo twank,

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 24 ♦ THE ROUGE’S MARCH ♦

Author Unknown, date unknown

I left my home and I left my job Went and joined the army If I knew then what I know now I wouldn't have been so barmy.

(Chorus) Poor old soldier, poor old soldier If I knew then what I know now

I wouldn't have been so barmy.

Gave me a gun and a big red coat ♦ SALLY BROWN ♦ Gave me lots of drilling If I knew then what I know now Author Unknown, song pre-dates 1830 I wouldn't have took the shilling. I love a maid across the water, Sent me off on a real old boat Aye, aye, roll and go! By Christ she was no beauty She is Sal herself, yet Sally's daughter Far far across the sea we went Spend my money on Sally Brown. Afore to do my duty. – Chorus Seven long years I courted Sally, Fought the Russians, or was it the French Aye, aye, roll and go! Really couldn't tell, sir She called me 'boy and Dilly Dally,' All I know is they fought so hard Spend my money on Sally Brown. They sent us all to hell, sir. – Chorus Seven long years and she wouldn't marry, When we got back home again Aye, aye, roll and go! To desert was my intent, sir And I no longer cared to tarry, I sold my cot and I sold my coat Spend my money on Sally Brown. And over the wall I went, sir. – Chorus So I courted Sal, her only daughter, Went to a tavern and I got drunk Aye, aye, roll and go! That is where they found me For her I sail upon the water, Back to barracks in chains I was sent Spend my money on Sally Brown. And there they did impound me. – Chorus Sally's teeth are white and pearly, Fifty I got for selling me coat Aye, aye, roll and go! Fifty for me blankets Her eyes are blue, her hair is curly, If ever I 'list for a soldier again Spend my money on Sally Brown. The devil shall be me sergeant. – Chorus The sweetest flower of the valley. Aye, aye, roll and go! Is my dear girl, my pretty Sally, Spend my money on Sally Brown.

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 25 Oh! Sally Brown, I had to leave you, John Paul Jones in an old tin can Aye, aye, roll and go! Scoured the ocean like a fightin' man; But trust me that I'll not deceive you. The British said, "Paul, are you ready to strike?" Spend my money on Sally Brown. And Paul said, "I'm just beginnin' to fight."

Sally Brown, I love your daughter, CHORUS Aye, aye, roll and go! For her I sail upon the water, General Washington and Rochambeau, Spend my money on Sally Brown. Drinkin' their wine in the campfire's glow. Big Dan Morgan came a-gallopin' in; He said, "We got Cornwallis in the old cowpen." ♦ SOLDIER’S JOY ♦ CHORUS From Henry Beck’s Flute Book, ca. 1786 Wake up, Buddy, have you heard the news? Some Continental soldiers on a bivouac Grandma Britain's got a terrible bruise. Were playing stud poker in a mountain shack; The Redcoats cried and cursed Yorktown But every vigilante threw down his hand While the band played the worlds turned upside down. When the captain of the guard gave the sharp CHORUS command: A homemade fiddle and a mandolin, (CHORUS) Jimmy, get your fiddle out and rosin up the bow; An old banjo and a tambourine; Johnny, tune your banjo up - we're gonna have a show. A big Dun bully for the soldier boy - Billy, pass the jug around to Corporal McCoy; Everybody loves to hear the Soldiers Joy. – Chorus We're gonna have a tune called SOLDIER'S JOY.

The girls in Boston are dancin' tonight; The gal-derned Redcoats are holdin' 'em tight. ♦ THE SOUTHERN WAGON ♦ When we get there, we will show them how - But that ain't a-doin' us no good now. Author Unknown, ca. 1861

CHORUS Come, all ye sons of freedom, and join our Southern band, We are going to fight the Yankees, and drive them from our There goes General Washington; land. He's got his horse in a sweepin' run. Justice is our motto, and providence our guide, The barefooted boys are beggin' to fight, So jump into the wagon, and we'll all take a ride. And we're gonna cross the Delaware River tonight. CHORUS – Wait for the wagon! The dissolution wagon! CHORUS The South is the wagon, and we'll all take a ride.

Old Burgoyne in the wilderness Secession is our watchword, our rights we all demand; Got his army in an awful mess; To defend our homes and firesides, we pledge our hearts and The farmers got mad at the British and Huns, hands; And captured ten thousand of the sons-of-a-guns. Jeff Davis is our president, with Stephens by his side; Brave Beauregard, our General, will join us in the ride. CHORUS CHORUS

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 26 Our wagon is the very best, the running gear is good; Stuffed 'round the sides with cotton, and made of Southern wood. Carolina is the driver, with Georgia by her side, Virginia holds the flag up, and we'll all take a ride.

CHORUS ♦ SPANISH LADY ♦ There are Tennessee and Texas also in the ring; They wouldn't have a government where cotton wasn't Author Unknown, written ca. December 1624 king. Alabama and Florida have long ago replied; As I roved out thro' Dublin city Mississippi and Louisiana are anxious for the ride. At the hour of twelve o' the night, CHORUS Who should I spy but a Spanish Lady Washing her feet by candlelight. Old Lincoln and his Congressmen with Seward by his side, First she washed them, then she dried them Put old Scott in the wagon just for to take a ride. Over a fire of amber coal. McDowell was the driver, to cross Bull Run he tried, In all my life I ne'er did see But there he left the wagon for Beauregard to ride. A maid so neat about the sole.

CHORUS CHORUS – Whack for the too-ra loo-ra-laddy Whack for the too-ra loo-ra-lee Manassas was the battleground. the field was fair and wide; Whack for the too-ra loo-ra-laddy They Yankees thought they'd whip us out, and on to Richmond ride; What for the too-ra loo-ra-lee. But when they met our "Dixie" boys, their danger they As I came back through Dublin City, espied; At the hour of half-past eight, They wheeled about for Washington, and didn't wait to ride. Who should I spy but the Spanish Lady, Brushing her hair in broad daylight. CHORUS First she toss'd it, then she brushed it, On her lap was a silver comb. The Tennessee boys are in the field, eager for the fray; In all my life I ne'er did see They can whip the Yankee boys three to one, they say; So fair a maid since I did roam. - CHORUS And when they get in conflict with Davis by their side, They'll pitch into the Yankee boys and then you'll see them As I went down thro' Dublin City slide. When the sun began to set. CHORUS Who should I spy but a Spanish Lady, Catching a moth in a golden net. Our cause is just and holy, our men are brave and true; When she saw me, then she fled me, We'll whip the Lincoln cutthroats is all we have to do. Lifting her petticoat over the knee, God bless our noble army; in Him we all confide; In all my life I ne'er did spy So jump into the wagon and we'll all take a ride. A maid so blithe as the Spanish Lady. – CHORUS

CHORUS

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 27 Hemmed in an ugly gorge--

Pope and his Yankees whipped before-- "Bayonet and grape!" hear Stonewall roar, ♦ STONEWALL JACKSON’S WAY ♦ "Charge, Stuart! Pay off Ashby's score By John W. Palmer, ca. 1862 In Stonewall Jackson's way."

Come, stack arms, men. Pile on the rails, Ah, maiden! wait and watch and yearn Stir up the campfire bright; For news of Stonewall's band! No matter if the canteen fails, Ah, widow! read with eyes that burn We'll make a roaring night. That ring upon thy hand! Here Shenandoah brawls along, Ah, wife! sew on, pray on, hope on, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong Thy life shall not be all forlorn-- To swell the brigade's rousing song The foe had better ne'er been born, Of "Stonewall Jackson's way." That gets in Stonewall's way.

We see him now--the old slouched hat Cocked o'er his eye askew-- ♦ TENTING TONIGHT ON THE OLD The shrewd, dry smile--the speech so pat-- CAMPGROUND ♦ So calm, so blunt, so true. That "Blue-Light Elder" knows 'em well-- By Walter Kittredge, ca. 1863

Says he, "That's Banks; he's fond of shell-- We're tenting tonight on the old camp ground, Lord save his soul! We'll give him"...well, Give us a song to cheer That's "Stonewall Jackson's way." Our weary hearts, a song of home, Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off! And friends we love so dear. Old Blue Light's going to pray; CHORUS Strangle the fool that dares to scoff; Many are the hearts that are weary tonight, Attention; it's his way! Wishing for the war to cease; Appealing from his native sod, Many are the hearts that are looking for the right In forma pauperis to God-- To see the dawn of peace. "Lay bare thine arm; stretch forth thy rod; Tenting tonight, tenting tonight, tenting on the old camp Amen." That's "Stonewall's way." ground

He's in the saddle now! Fall in! We've been tenting tonight on the old camp ground, Steady, the whole brigade! Thinking of days gone by, Hill's at the ford, cut off! He'll win Of the loved ones at home that gave us the hand His way out, ball and blade. And the tear that said "Goodbye!" – CHORUS What matter if our shoes are worn? What matter if our feet are torn? We are tired of war on the old camp ground, "Quick step--we're with him ere the dawn!" Many are dead and gone, That's "Stonewall Jackson's way." Of the brave and true who've left their homes, Others been wounded long. – CHORUS The sun's bright glances rout the mists Of morning, and, by George! We've been fighting today on the old camp ground, There's Longstreet struggling in the lists, Many are lying near;

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 28 Some are dead and some are dying, The Merrimac, with heavy sway, Many are in tears. Had made our Fleet an easy prey -- The Monitor got in the way, CHORUS And that's what's the matter! Many are the heart that are weary tonight, So health to Captain Ericsson, Wishing for the war to cease; I cannot tell all he has done, Many are the hearts that are looking for the right I'd never stop when once begun, To see the dawn of peace And that's what's the matter! – CHORUS Dying tonight, dying tonight, dying on the old camp ground. We've heard of Gen'ral Beauregard, And thought he'd fight us long and hard; ♦ THAT’S WHAT’S THE MATTER ♦ But he has play'd out his last card,

And that's what's the matter! By Stephen C. Foster, ca. 1862 So what's the use to fret and pout,

We soon will hear the people shout, We live in hard and stirring times, Secession dodge is all play'd out! Too sad for mirth, too rough for rhymes; For songs of peace have lost their chimes, And that's what's the matter! – CHORUS

And that's what's the matter! The men we held as brothers true ♦ TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP ♦ Have turned into a rebel crew; So now we have to put them thro', By George F. Root, ca. 1863 And that's what's the matter!

CHORUS - That's what's the matter, In the prison cell I sit, thinking Mother, dear, of you, The rebels have to scatter; And our bright and happy home so far away, We'll make them flee, by land and sea, And the tears, they fill my eyes 'spite of all that I can do, And that's what's the matter! Tho' I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.

Oh! yes, we thought our neighbors true, CHORUS – Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching, Indulg'd them as their mothers do; Cheer up, comrades, they will come, They storm'd our bright Red, White and Blue, And beneath the starry flag we shall breathe the air again And that's what's the matter! Of the free land in our own beloved home. We'll never give up what we gain, In the battle front we stood, when their fiercest charge they For now we know we must maintain made, Our Laws and Rights with might and main; And they swept us off a hundred men or more, And that's what's the matter! – CHORUS But before we reached their lines, they were beaten back dismayed, The rebels thought we would divide, And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er. – Chorus And Democrats would take their side; They then would let the Union slide, So within the prison cell we are waiting for the day And that's what's the matter! That shall come to open wide the iron door, But, when the war had once begun, And the hollow eye grows bright, and the poor heart almost All party feeling soon was gone; gay, We join'd as brothers, ev'ry one! As we think of seeing home and friends once more. – Chorus And that's what's the matter! – CHORUS

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 29

O! dis Union can't be broken, Dar's no use to try; ♦ UNCLE JOE’S HAIL COLUMBIA ♦ No sech thing the Lord has spoken -- Now let me die. Words and Music by Henry Clay Work, ca. 1862

(CHORUS) Uncle Joe comes home a singing, Hail, Columby! I'll go home a singing "Glory!" Glorious times de Lord is bringin' -- Hail Columby! Now let me die. Since I heard dis bressed story -- Fling the chains into the ribber -- Now let me die. Lay de burden by; 'Tis de ransom ob de nation, Dar is one who will delibber -- Drawing' now so nigh; Now let me die. 'Tis de day ob full salbation, -- Now let me die. CHORUS – Ring de Bells in eb'ry steeple! Raise the Flag on high! (CHORUS)

De Lord has come to Sabe the people -- Now let me die. ♦ THE VALIANT CONSCRIPT ♦ Bressed days, I lib to see dem, Hail Columby! Author Unknown, ca. 1862, sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle I hab drawn a breff of freedom -- Now let me die. How are you, boys? I'm just from camp, and feel as brave as Ninety years I bore the burden, Caesar; Den he heard me cry; The sound of bugle, drum, and fife has raised my Ebenezer. Standin' on de banks ob Jordan -- I'm full of fight, odds shot and shell, I'll leap into the saddle; Now let me die. And when the Yankees see me come - Lord, how they will skedaddle! (CHORUS) (Chorus) Hold your head up, Shang-hai! Shanks, Dis is what the war was brought for, Don't shake your knees and blink so! Hail, Columby! It is no time to dodge the act - Dis is what our faders fought for -- Brave comrades, don't you think so? Now let me die. Dar's an end to all dis sorrow, I was a ploughboy in the field, a gawky, lazy dodger Comin' by and by; When came the conscript officer and took me for a sodger. Prayin' for dat bressed morrow -- He put a musket in my hand and showed me how to fire it; Now let me die. I marched and counter-marched all day - Lord, how I did admire it! (CHORUS) With corn and hog fat for my food, and digging, guarding, I hab seen de rebels beaten, drilling, Hail Columby! I got as thin as twice-skimmed, and was scarcely worth the killing; I Hab seen dar boots retreatin', -- And now I'm used to homely fare, my skin as tough as Now let me die. leather;

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 30 I do guard duty cheerfully in every kind of weather. Maybe the Yankees are hard by with muskets ready loaded. Oh, gallant soldiers, beat 'em back; I'll join you in the frolic, I'm brimful of fight, my boys, I would not give a "Thank ye" But I've a chill from head to foot, and symptoms of the colic. For all the smiles the girls can give until I've killed a Yankee. High private is glorious rank, there's wide room for promotion; I'll get a corporal's stripes some day when fortune's in the notion.

'Tis true I have not seen a fight, nor have I smelt gunpowder; But then the way I'll pepper them will be a sin to chowder. A sergeant's stripes I now will sport; perhaps be color- bearer, And then a captain good for me - I'll be a regular terror.

I'll then begin to wear the stars, and then the wreaths of glory Until the army I command and poets sing my story. Our Congress will pass votes of thanks to him who rose from zero; The people in a mass will shout, "Hurrah, behold the hero!"

(He fires his gun by accident!)

What's that? oh dear! A boiler's burst, a gaspipe has exploded;

The Company Songster of the Palmetto Riflemen and New York Zouaves Page 31