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Und ven der pattle commence,
Kill all der Yankees you can, Und schump perhind some pig- oak-tree,
For dot ish der officer's blan.
Ven der pattle gits vide open, Und dem palls dey comes so tick,
Oh! you tink you must go somewhere, Pecause you vas so sick.
Yust lower your knapsack down yer back,
Und cover up your rear, Den you von't get vounded,
Like dis Dutcher Volunteer.
SOUTHERN SONG OF FREEDOM.
Air—" The Minstrel's Return."
A nation has sprung into life
Beneath the bright Cross of the South; And now a loud call to the strife
Rings out from the shrill bugle's mouth. They gather from morass and mountain,
They gather from prairie and mart, To drink, at young Liberty's fountain,
The Nectar that kindles the heart.
Chorus—Then, hail to the land of the pine ! The home of the noble and free; A palmetto wreath we'll entwine Round the altar of young Liberty !