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I think my song has lasted almost long- enough, The subject's interesting, but the rhymes are mighty rough, I wish this war was over, when free from rags and fleas, We'd kiss our wives and sweethearts and gobble goober peas !
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OUR COUNTRY'S CALL.
By H. Waltheb. [Permission of Henri Wehrmann.]
To arms ! Oh! men in all our Southern clime,
Do you not scent the battle from afar, And hear the ringing clash of armor chime,
Where men have met all panoplied for war? To arms! Let not your country call in vain
For willing hearts to shield her from the foe, But let the ardor of a patriot's fame
Brightly within each manly bosom glow.
Chorus.—But let the ardor of a patriot's fame
Brightly within each manly bosom glow.
To arms! in this, your country's hour of need !
Behold her beautiful and broad domain, And say, if patriot hearts shall freely bleed
To keep it sacred from invasion's stain? To arms! and don the panoply of war,
Stay not like cowards from the battle-field ; But with your armor on, march where the roar
Of cannon tells you that your brothers bleed !
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