For Lincoln now we sing our lay,

For he’s the man, say what you may,

Now Illinois has one great son,

Who over the course swift will run.

Old Abe can maul, or he can thrash,

He’ll give it to your Loco trash,

Your two-faced man is naught to him,

E’en now his prospects are all dim,

Abe is not rich in worldly goods,

But in his thoughts, his works, his words,

’Tis he who loves his wife and friends,

And o’er his duty daily bends.

Upon the Eagle he shall ride,

And of our nation be the pride,

While Douglas shall remain below,

And his own horn still have to blow.