MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA. Marching Through Georgia. BRING the good old bugle, boys! we'll sing an other song, Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along,— Sing it as we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong, While we were marching through Georgia. CHORUS. Hurrah, hurrah! we bring the jubilee ! How the darkies shouted when they heard the joyful sound! How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary found! How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground, While we were marching through Georgia! — CHO. Yes, and there were Union men who wept with joyful tears When they saw the honor'd flag they had not seen for years; Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers While we were marching through Georgia. CHO. "Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never reach the coast!" So the saucy rebels said, and t'was a handsome boast. Had they not forgot, alas! to reckon on a host, While we were marching through Georgia. CHO. So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train, Sixty miles in latitude, three hundred to the main; Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain, While we were marching through Georgia. — CHO. -H. C. Work. O CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN. O Captain! My Captain! On the Death of Lincoln. Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But, O heart! heart! heart! Oh, the bleeding drops of red, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up, for you the flag is flung,- for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths, the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here, Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Fallen cold and dead. BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. Battle Hymn of the Republic. MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on. CHORUS. Glory! Glory Hallelujah! Glory! Glory Hallelujah! His truth is marching on. I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps; His day is marching on. CHO. I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel: |