168 MARCH ALONG. Think you a hand in the nation will fold it, Carry it onward till victory earn it The rights it once owned in the land of the free; Then, in God's name, in our fury we'll turn it Full on the treachery over the sea! Then march along, etc. England shall feel what a vengeance the liar Peace shall unite us again and forever, Though thousands lie cold in the graves of these wars; Those who survive them shall never prove, never, False to the flag of the stripes and the stars! March to the battle with a song! March, march along! IN She arms us for the fight! For country, government, and law, The Union must shall be preserved, Our flag still o'er us fly! That cause our hearts and hands has nerved, CHORUS. Then come, ye hardy volunteers, And pledge man's hope of coming years, The Union, right or wrong! The Union right or wrong-inspires The burden of our song; It was the glory of our sires The Union, — right or wrong! It is the duty of us all II. To check rebellion's sway; 170 GONE TO THE WAR. To rally at the nation's call, CHORUS. So come, ye hardy volunteers, The Union - right or wrong-inspires It was the glory of our sires The Union, right or wrong! GONE TO THE WAR. BY HORATIO ALGER, JR. MY Charlie has gone to the war, My Charlie so brave and tall; He left his plough in the furrow My precious boy — my all. GONE TO THE WAR. My heart is pining to see him, I miss him every day; My heart is weary with waiting, I remember how his face flushed, When the flash from the guns of Sumter And darkened our country's banner "Mother," he said, then faltered, I felt his mute appeal; I paused, if you are a mother, You know what mothers feel, When called to yield their dear ones My heart stood still for a moment, A faint of death came o'er me, I am a mother, you know, 171 172 TO THE UNITED STATES. Wherever the fight is fiercest Of the stout arms of the free, The thought of him who has left me My constant, sad employ ; But God has been good to the mother; OH TO THE UNITED STATES. BY MAYNE REID. H! land of my longings, beyond the Atlantic, What horrible dream has disturbed thy repose? What demon has driven thy citizens frantic, A grief to their friends, and a joy to their foes? Is it true they are arming to kill one another? |