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CONFEDERATE LAND. By H. H. Strawbridge.
States of the South ! Confederate Land !
Our foe has come—the hour is nigh; His bale-fires rise on every hand—
Rise as one man, to do or die ! From mountain, vale, and prairie wide,
From forest vast, and field, and glen, And crowded city, pour thy tide,
Oh fervid South ! Oh patriot men!
Chorus—Up ! old and young-; the weak, be strong-! Rise for the right,—hurl back the wrong, And foot to foot, and hand to hand, Strike for our own Confederate Land !
Make every house, and rock, and tree,
And hill, your forts ; and fen and flood Yield not! our soil shall rather be
One waste of flame, one sea of blood ! On ! though perennial be the strife,
For honor dear, for hearthstone fires; Give blow for blow! take life for life !
"Strike! 'till the last armed foe expires!"
Chorus. |
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