Oh, kind folks listen to my song, it is no Idle story:
It's all about a volunteer, who's coin' to fight for glory;
Now don't you think that I am right, for I am nothin' shorter.
And I belong to the Fire Zou-Zous, and don't you think I oughter;
We're going down to Washington to fight for Abraham's daughter.
Oh, should you ask me who she am, Columbia is her name, sir;
she is the child of Abraham, or Uncle Sam, the same, sir.
Now If I fight, why ain't I right, and don't you think I oughter.
Tho volunteers are a-pourin' in from every loyal quarter,
And I'm goin' 'long to Washington to fight for Abraham's daughter.
They say we have no officers, but, ah, they are mistaken;
And soon you'll see the rebels run with all the fuss they're makin'.
For there is one who just sprung up, he'll show the foe no quarter.
McClellan is the man I mean, you know he hadn't oughter.
For he's gone down to Washington to fight for Abraham's daughter.
We'll have a spree with Johnny Bull, perhaps, some day or other,
And won't he have his lingers full, if not a deal of bother;
For Yankee boys are just the lads upon the land or water.
And won't we have a "bully "fight, and don't you think we oughter,
If he is caught at any time insulting Abraham's daughter.
But let us lay all jokes aside, it Is a sorry question,
The man who would these States divide, should hang for his suggestion.
One country and one flag, I say, whoe'er the war may slaughter.
Bo I'm goin' as a Fire Zou-a, and don't you think I oughter:
I'm going down to Washington to light for Abraham's daughter.