War Lyrics: And Songs of the South

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Spottiswoode & Company, printer, 1866 - War-songs - 261 pages
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Page 263 - This book is a preservation photocopy. It was produced on Hammennill Laser Print natural white, a 60 # book weight acid-free archival paper which meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper) «Preservation photocopying and binding by Acme Bookbinding Cbarlestown, Massachusetts Q 1996 3 2044 025
Page 24 - ugly gorge. Pope and his Yankees, whipped before, ' Bay'nets and grape ! ' hear Stonewall roar; ' Charge, Stuart! pay off Ashby's score ' In ' Stonewall Jackson's way.' Ah ! maiden, wait, and watch, and yearn, For news of Stonewall's band, Ah ! widow, read with eyes that burn, That ring upon thy hand ! Ah ! wife, sew on, pray on, hope on ! Thy life shall not
Page 24 - Lay bare thine arm, stretch forth thy rod,' 'Amen ! ' 'That's Stonowall's way.' He's in the saddle now ! Fall in ! Steady ! the whole brigade ! Hill's at the ford, cut off; we'll win His way out, ball and blade. What matter if
Page 29 - The kindliest of the kindly band Who rarely hated ease— Who rode with Smith around the land, And Raleigh 'round the seas. Who climbed the blue Virginia hills Amid embattled foes, And planted there, in valleys fair, The Lily and the Rose, Whose fragrance lives in many lands, Whose beauty stars the earth, And lights the hearth of
Page 24 - That's Banks—he's fond of shell, Lord save his soul!—we'll give him '—well That's ' Stonewall Jackson's way.' Silence ! ground arms ! kneel all! caps off! Old ' Blue Light's ' going to pray,— Strangle the fool that dares to scoff! Attention, 'tis his way ! Appealing from his native sod, In
Page 24 - shoes are worn ? What matter if our feet are torn ? ' Quick step ! we're with him before dawn ! ' ' That's Stonewall Jackson's way.' The sun's bright lances rout the mists Of morning—and, by George ! Here's Longstreet, struggling in the
Page 193 - adoring knee, When repentant to the skies Scarce we lift our streaming eyes, Oh, by all Thy pains and woe, Suffered once for man below, Jesus, look with pitying eye.
Page 55 - 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
Page 96 - But the faith that was in us was strong, indeed, And our poverty well discerned ; And these little checks represented the pay That our suffering volunteers earned. We knew it had hardly a value in gold, Yet as gold our soldiers received it; It gazed in
Page 56 - 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

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