"
THE SPIRIT OF THE SOUTH.
"Then come to the battle charge!
Welcome the Celtic yell!
'Twixt you and the South, at the cannon's mouth,
'Tis Gettysburg or Hell!"
BURKE OF THE BRAVE BRIGADE.
"Then 'tis Gettysburg Heights or Hell!
We are here till the game is played;
And a Hell he will feel who dares our steel,"
Said Burke of the Brave Brigade.
So they fought, and the story runs
(All thanks to the Heavenly Powers),
That the field was won by the Celtic sons;
For Hell flashed Leeward from out their guns,
And Gettysburg is ours!
TEARS, TEARS.
Tears, tears,
With wifely fears
Immixed--I held my breath,
My boy!
As down the street
The drums did beat
That led you to your death,
My boy!
Oh! Oh!
Where'er I go,
And soldier boys I see,
My jo!
I wis', I wis',
For him whose kiss
Was blessedness to me,
My jo!
Still, still,
By wish and will,
The land you saved, I love,
My boy!
Beneath a stone,
It holds your bone,
I'll clasp your soul above,
My boy!
SHERRY IN THE SADDLE.
Sherry's not in saddle,
Sherry's not in saddle,
Zip-zip-zip! Zip-zip-zip!
Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!
Boys in blue skedaddle,
Boys in blue skedaddle,
Zip-zip-zip! Zip-zip-zip!
Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!
Sherry's not in saddle,
Sherry's not in saddle,
The Southron gray
Is King to-day,
For Sherry's not in saddle.
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