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The South for me ! its bright-eyed maids,
Its clime, its stars, its silvery skies, Its streamlets, with their lovely naiads,
Its vales, where varying beauties rise, Its cotton fields, where dusky slaves,
Are happy in protection kind, The stranger's home, though Yankee knaves
May never there a welcome find.
CAROLINA. By Mrs. C. A. B. Music by A. E. B.
'Mid her ruins proudly stands,
Our Carolina ! Fetters are upon her hands,
Dear Carolina! Yet she feels no sense of shame, For upon the scroll of Fame, She hath writ a deathless name,
She was first our wrongs to feel,
Our Carolina ! First to draw the glittering steel,
Dear Carolina ! Ready first to strike the blow, At th' oppressor and the foe, And to lay their standard low,
Brave Carolina !