Southern war song, which was first published in the Rockingham, Va., Register in 1861, became quite popular with the boys in gray. It is published here because of its peculiarities rather than on account of its literary merit.
| Whoop! the Doodles have broken loose, Roaring round like the very deuce! Lice of Egypt, a hungry pack— After 'em, boys, and drive 'em back. Bull-dog, terrier, cur, and fice, Back to the beggarly land of ice; Worry 'em, bite 'em, scratch and tear Everybody and everywhere. Old Kentucky is caved from under, Tennessee is split asunder, Alabama awaits attack, And Georgia bristles up her back. Old John Brown is dead and gone! Still his spirit is marching on— Lantern-jawed, and legs, my boys, Long as an ape's from Illinois! Want a weapon? Gather a brick, Club or cudgel, or stone or stick; Anything with a blade or butt, Anything that can cleave or cut; Anything heavy, or hard, or keen— Any sort of slaying machine! Anything with a willing mind And the steady arm of a man behind. Want a weapon? Why, capture one! Every Doodle has got a gun, Belt, and bayonet, bright and new; Kill a Doodle, and capture two! Shoulder to shoulder, son and sire! All, call all! to the feast of fire! Mother and maiden, and child and slave, A common triumph or a single grave. |
THE BLACK FLAG.
The raising of the black flag means death without quarter. It means that prisoners taken should be slaughtered at once. It is contrary to the spirit of modern warfare. General Sherman, in his celebrated letter to the Mayor of Atlanta, says, "War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it." War arouses the fiercest, most tiger-like passions of mankind. Were it not so, the poet who wrote "The Mountain of the Lovers" could never have written "The Black Flag." Paul Hamilton Hayne was born in Charleston, S. C., in 1830. He abandoned the practice of law for literary pursuits. He contributed to the Southern Literary Messenger, and for a while edited the Charleston Literary Gazette. He entered the Southern army at the outbreak of the civil war, and served until obliged to resign by failing health. His house and all his personal property were destroyed at the bombardment of Charleston. He wrote extensively both in poetry and prose.
| Like the roar of the wintry surges on a wild, tempestuous strand, The voice of the maddened millions comes up from an outraged land; For the cup of our woe runs over, and the day of our grace is past, And Mercy has fled to the angels, and Hatred is king at last! CHORUS: Then up with the sable banner! Let it thrill to the War God's breath, For we march to the watchword—Vengeance! And we follow the captain—Death! In the gloom of the gory breaches, on the ramparts wrapped in flame, 'Mid the ruined homesteads, blackened by a hundred deeds of shame; Wheresoever the vandals rally, and the bands of the alien meet, We will crush the heads of the hydra with the stamp of our armed feet. They have taught us a fearful lesson! 'tis burned on our hearts in fire, And the souls of a host of heroes leap with a fierce desire; And we swear by all that is sacred, and we swear by all that is pure, That the crafty and cruel dastards shall ravage our homes no more. We will roll the billows of battle back, back on the braggart foe, Till his leaguered and stricken cities shall quake with a coward's throe; They shall compass the awful meaning or the conflict their lust begun, When the Northland rings with wailing, and the grand old cause hath won. |
LORENA.
This doleful and pathetic song of affection was very popular among the Confederate soldiers. It started at the start, and never stopped till the last musket was stacked and the last camp-fire cold. It was, without doubt, the song nearest the Confederate soldier's heart. It was the "Annie Laurie" of the Confederate trenches.
| "Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang 'Annie Laurie.'" |
| The years creep slowly by, Lorena, The snow is on the grass again; The sun's low down the sky, Lorena, And frost gleams where the flowers have been. But the heart throbs on as warmly now As when the summer days were nigh. Oh! the sun can never dip so low Adown affection's cloudless sky. One hundred months have passed, Lorena, Since last I held that hand in mine; I felt that pulse beat fast, Lorena, But mine beat faster still than thine. One hundred months! 'Twas flowery May, When up the mountain slope we climbed, To watch the dying of the day, And hear the merry church bells chime. We loved each other then, Lorena, More than we ever dared to tell; And what we might have been, Lorena, Had but our loving prospered well— But then, 'tis past, the years have flown; I'll not call up their shadowy forms; I'll say to them, "Lost years, sleep on— Sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storms." It matters little now, Lorena, The past is the eternal past; Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena, Life's tide is ebbing out so fast. But there's a future, oh! thank God— Of life this is so small a part, 'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod; But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart. |
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| STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER. |
OLD FOLKS AT HOME.
Mr. F. G. de Fontaine, a celebrated Southern war correspondent, writes that the most popular songs with the soldiers of the Confederate armies were negro melodies, such as "Old Folks at Home" and "My Old Kentucky Home." This is our reason for publishing the pacific and kindly words of the most celebrated negro melody, among songs that breathe threatening and slaughter. It is not difficult to understand why such songs were popular with men raised in the South. They would bring forcibly to mind the distant home, and the dear associations of early life on the old plantations. "Old Folks at Home" was written by Stephen Collins Foster. He wrote between two and three hundred popular songs—more than any other American. Among the most familiar of his compositions are "Old Uncle Ned," "Massa's in the Cold, Cold Ground," "Old Dog Tray," and "My Old Kentucky Home." Mr. Foster was finely educated, was proficient in French and German, was an amateur painter of ability, and a talented musician. It is said that he received fifteen thousand dollars for "Old Folks at Home."
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| Way down upon de Swanee ribber, Far, far away, Dere's wha my heart is turning ebber, Dere's wha de old folks stay. All up and down de whole creation Sadly I roam, Still longing for de old plantation, And for de old folks at home. CHORUS: All de world am sad and dreary, Ebrywhere I roam; Oh, darkies, how my heart grows weary, Far from de old folks at home! All round de little farm I wandered When I was young; Den many happy days I squandered, Many de songs I sung. When I was playing wid my brudder, Happy was I; Oh, take me to my kind old mudder! Dere let me live and die. One little hut among de bushes, One dat I love, Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes, No matter where I rove. When will I see de bees a-humming All round de comb? When will I hear de banjo tumming, Down in my good old home? CHORUS: All de world am sad and dreary, Ebrywhere I roam; Oh, darkies, how my heart grows weary, Far from de old folks at home! |
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THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG.
The most popular war songs of the South were "Dixie" and "The Bonnie Blue Flag." Like "Dixie," the "Bonnie Blue Flag" began its popular career in New Orleans. The words were written by an Irish comedian, Mr. Harry McCarthy, and the song was first sung by his sister, Miss Marion McCarthy, at the Variety Theatre in New Orleans in 1861. The tune is an old and popular Irish melody, "The Irish Jaunting Car." It is said that General Butler, when he was commander of the National forces in New Orleans in 1862,