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GENERAL LEE'S WOOING. 221
So hear me all, boys, darlings, Don't think I 'm tippin' you chaff,
The right to be killed I '11 divide wid him, And give him the largest half!
GENERAL LEE'S WOOING.
Air — " My Maryland ! My Maryland ! "
MY Maryland ! My Maryland !
Among thy hills of blue I wander far, I wander wide,
A lover born and true; I sound my horn upon the hills,
I sound it in the vale, But echo only answers it, —
An echo like a wail.
My Maryland ! My Maryland !
I bring thee presents fine,— A dazzling sword with jewelled hilt,
A flask of Bourbon wine ; I bring thee sheets of ghostly white
To dress thv bridal bed, With curtains of the purple eve
And garlands gory red.