From the green hills of New England,

From the Western slopes and prairies,

From the mines of Pennsylvania,

For the war note has been sounded,

And the Locos stand astounded,

While their rule, in ruin founded,

Steeped in infamous corruption,

Sold to sugar-cane and cotton,

Lo! a nation’s heart is rotten,

O’er our broad and free dominions

Rules the Cotton king whose minions

Clip our fearless eagle’s pinions,

We have chosen us a leader,

And with “resolute endeavor”

Let us strike at once—or never,

With a victory before us,

And a stainless banner o’er us,

Let us shout the joyful chorus,

We believe as did the heroes

Of our noble Revolution,

That our noble constitution,

And we go for non-extension,

In the field, as in convention,

And rejoice in the declension

With a patriot heart to guide us,

All the railing accusations,

Honest Abraham occasions,

For a son of honest labor,

Calling every man his neighbor,

Grasping Freedom’s trenchant saber,

Come, then, friends of working-classes—

Every State beneath its banners—

And with shouts and loud hosannahs

Roll along the mighty chorus,

And the reeling foe before us

Never more shall triumph o’er us,