  And this the "people's sovereignty, Before a despot humbled, Lies in the dust 'neath power unjust, With crown and sceptre crumbled. Their brows distained—like felons chained To negroes called "their betters," Their whinings drowned in "Old John Brown," Poor sovereigns wearing fetters. Hurrah for the Conscription,
Well have they cashed old Lincoln's drafts,
Some think the hideous spectacle Should move the heart to sadness, That fetters ought—oh silly thought!— Sting freemen's hearts to madness. When has the stock of Plymouth rock Been melted to compunction? As for Provos, the wide world knows That chaining is their function. Hurrah for the Conscription,
And for the stock of Plymouth rock,
What matter if you 're sandwiched in A host of sable fellows, Well flavored men, your kith and kin, As Abe and Sumner tell us? Is not the war—this murder—for The negro, nolens volens? For every three now killed of ye There's just a negro stolen. And then ye have Conscription, American Conscription, Your blood must flow for this, you know. Hurrah for the Conscription! The songs written by the soldiers and sailors themselves, descriptive of their engagements, or incidents of camp and march, or expressing their feelings, were not many, either in folk-ballads or finished poetry. Major J. W. De Forrest's powerful verses, In Louisiana, are almost the only specimen of the latter, and there are but few of the ruder ballads. It may have been because the soldiers and sailors were too much occupied, and that the life in camp and on shipboard was not favorable to poetical reverie, although there were many hours on picket or watch which might have been thus employed; but the fact remains that there was more carving of bone rings than of verses, and more singing than writing in the army and navy. There was not an absolute dearth, however, and the soldiers and sailors sometimes told their own stories or expressed their own feelings in verse. One of the best of these was written during the early days of the war by H. Millard, a member of Company A, Seventy-first Regiment, concerning the march from Annapolis to the Junction, and has the genuine flavor of soldiership as well as a fine spirit of camaraderie. It is entitled Only Nine Miles to the Junction:— The Rhode Island boys were posted along On the road from Annapolis station, As the Seventy-first Regiment, one thousand strong, Went on in defense of the nation. We'd been marching all day in the sun's scorching ray, With two biscuits each as a ration, When we asked Gov. Sprague to show us the way, And "How many miles to the Junction?" How many miles—how many miles,
When we asked Gov. Sprague to show us the way,
The Rhode Island boys cheered us on out of sight, After giving the following injunction: "Just keep up your courage, you 'll come out all right, For it's only nine miles to the Junction." They gave us hot coffee, a grasp of the hand, Which cheered and refreshed our exhaustion; We reached in six hours the long-promised land, For't was only nine miles to the Junction. There were not many attempts to describe the battles in which the soldiers took part, and they were left to the poets, who did not see them, and had to depend, not very successfully, upon their imagination. There was, however, a ballad of the Seven Days' Fight before Richmond, evidently written by a soldier, and of some force and vigor. It begins: — Away down in old Yirginny many months ago, McClellan made a movement and made it very slow. The Rebel Generals found it out and pitched into our rear; They caught the very devil, for they found old Kearney
In the old Yirginny low-lands, low-lands, The old Yirginny low-lands, low. The bard details the fights as though they were a succession of Union victories, and concludes with a defense of General McClellan:— Now all you politicians, a word I have for you, Just let our little Mac alone, for he is tried and true; For you have found out lately that he is our only hope, For twice he saved the Capitol, likewise McDowell and Pope. The enthusiasm aroused by General McClellan among the rank and file of the Army of the Potomac had no counterpart in regard to any other commander, was proof against failure and defeat, and lingered, to a certain extent, even to the close of the war. His removal caused a great deal of indignation, and called out a good many protests and appeals for his restoration. A song, Give us back our old Commander, was a good deal sung at the time:— Give us back our old Commander, Little Mac, the people's pride; Let the army and the nation In their choice be satisfied. With McClellan as our leader, Let us strike the blow anew; Give us back our old Commander, He will see the battle through. Give us back our old Commander,
With McClellan as our leader,
The very rollicking and nonsensical chorus of Bummers, come and meet Us, belongs to this period, and was almost as popular as John Brown's Body, fulfilling amply and simply the conditions for relieving the lungs. Like the sailors' "shanties" and the plantation choruses, it was capable of indefinite extension and improvisation. The following is a specimen of its construction:— McClellan is our leader, we've had our last retreat, McClellan is our leader, we've had our last retreat, McClellan is our leader, we 've had our last retreat, We 'll now go marching on. Say, brothers, will you meet us, Say, brothers, will you meet us, Say, brothers, will you meet us, As we go marching on?
The girls we left behind us, boys, our sweethearts in the North, The girls we left behind us, boys, our sweethearts in the North, The girls we left behind us, boys, our sweethearts in the North,
Oh sweethearts, don't forget us, Oh sweethearts, don't forget us, Oh sweethearts, don't forget us,
A seaman on board the Vandalia, one of the ships engaged in the capture of Port Royal, wrote a description of the engagement, which has considerable of the light of battle in it. It is entitled:—
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