Songs from Beneath Old Glory Book 1: Fort Orphans
In order of inclusion in Fort Orphans
Camptown Races by Stephen Foster – 1850 (pg. 13)
Camptown ladies sing this song, Doo-dah, Doo-dah, Camptown racetrack five miles long, Oh, doo-dah day.
(Chorus) Gwine to run all night , Gwine to run all day , I bet my money on a bob-tailed nag , Somebody bet on the gray.
Oh, the long tailed filly and the big black horse, Doo-dah, doo-dah , Come to a mud hole and they all cut across, Oh, doo-dah day. Chorus
I went down there with my hat caved in, Doo-dah, doo-dah, I came back home with a pocket full of tin, Oh, doo-dah day. Chorus
Johnny Booker attributed to Joel Sweeney -1850′s (pg. 25)
I drove on up to Anthony’s mill, I tried to pull up that there hill. I whipped my steers and pushed my cart, Couldna do for to make a start.
(Chorus) Oh, Johnny Booker, Oh, Johnny Booker, Oh, Johnny Booker, do.
I put my shoulder to the wheel, And on the ground I placed my heel. Then we made a mighty strain, But all our efforts proved in vain. Chorus
Here come a wagon a-drivin’ by, Sat on the ground and I ’gan for to cry. Said me to he, “Some pity take, Help me please for conscience sake.” Chorus
Says he to me, “I will help thee,” Took his horses out number three. He wiped from my eyes my falling tears, And hitched his horses up to my steers. Chorus
Then he to me, he did much please, He filled me up with so much ease. His horses was so big and strong, The way they pulled this cart along. Chorus
Helen of Kirkconnel – old ballad (pg. 25)
I wish I were where Helen lies, For night and day on me she cries. Oh, that I were where Helen lies, On fair Kirkconnel Lea. Cursed be the heart that thought the thought And cursed the hand that fired the shot, When in my arms burd Helen dropt And died to succor me.
But thinkna ye my heart was sair when my love dropt down and spake nae mair, there did she swoon wi’ meikle care on fair Kirkconnel Lea. I wish I were where Helen lies, For night and day on me she cries, And I am weary of the skies for her sake that died for me.
Shortenin’ Bread – Traditional Southern Tune (pg. 42)
Put on the skillet, put on the lid, mammy’s gonna make a little shortenin’ bread; That ain’t all she’s goin’ to do, mammy’s gonna make a little coffee too.
(Chorus) Mammy’s little baby loves shortenin’, shortenin’, mammy’s little baby loves shortenin’ bread. Mammy’s little baby loves shortenin’, shortenin’, mammy’s little baby loves shortenin’ bread.
Three little fellers, laying in bed, two was sick an’ the other ‘most dead; Sent for the doctor, the doctor said, “Feed those children on shortenin’ bread.” Chorus
Slip to the kitchen, slip up the lid, filled my pockets full of shortenin’ bread; Stole the skillet, stole the lid, stole the gal makin’ shortenin’ bread. Chorus
My Old Kentucky Home, Good-Night by Stephen Foster – 1853 (pg. 72)
The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home, ’Tis summer, the darkies are gay. The corn top’s ripe and the meadow’s in the bloom While the birds make music all the day. The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, All merry, all happy and bright By’n by hard times comes a-knockin’ at the door, Then my old Kentucky home, good-night!
(Chorus) Weep no more, my lady, Oh! Weep no more today! We will sing one song For the old Kentucky home, For the old Kentucky home, far away.
They hunt no more for the possum and the coon On the meadow, and hill, and the shore, They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon, On the bench by the old cabin door. The day goes by like a shadow on the heart, With sorrow where all was delight, The time has come when the darkies have to part, Then my old Kentucky home, good-night! Chorus
The head must bow and the back will have to bend Wherever the darkey may go, A few more days, and the trouble all will end In the field where the sugar-canes grow, A few more days for to tote the weary load, No matter ’twill never be light, A few more days till we totter on the road, Then my old Kentucky home, good-night! Chorus
Old Zip Coon – minstrel tune, composer uncertain (pg. 79)
I went down to sandy hook the other afternoon, I went down to sandy hook the other afternoon, I went down to sandy hook the other afternoon, and the first man I met there was ole Zip Coon.
(Chorus) Old Zip Coon is a very learned scholar, Old Zip Coon is a very learned scholar, Old Zip Coon is a very learned scholar, and he plays upon the banjo “Cooney in the holler.”
Old Dan Tucker by Daniel Decatur Emmett (pg. 81)
I come to town the other night, to hear the noise and see the fight. The watchman was a-runnin’ ’round, cryin’, “Old Dan Tucker’s come to town!”
(Chorus) So, get out the way, Old Dan Tucker, get out the way, Old Dan Tucker, get out the way, Old Dan Tucker, you’re too late to come to supper.
Now Old Dan Tucker was a mighty man, he washed his face in a fraying pan; he combed his hair with a wagon wheel, an’ died with a toothache in his heel. Chorus
Old Dan Tucker was a hardened sinner, he never said his grace at dinner; the old sow squeal, the pigs did squall, he ate the whole hog tail and all! Chorus
And now Old Dan is a gone sucker, and never can go home to supper; Old Dan, he has had his last ride, and the banjo’s buried by his side. Chorus
Oh, Susanna by Stephen Foster – California Gold Rush version lyrics, composer unknown (pg. 90)
I come from Salem City with my washpan on my knee, I am going to California the gold dust for to see. It rained all night the day I left, the weather it was dry, the sun so hot I froze to death, Susanna, don’t you cry.
(Chorus) Oh, Susanna, oh, don’t you cry for me. I’ll be off to California with my washpan on my knee!
I soon shall be in Frisco, and there I’ll look around, and when I see the gold lumps I’ll pick them off the ground. I’ll scrape the mountains clean, my boys, I’ll drain the rivers dry, a pocket full of rocks bring home, Susanna, don’t you cry. Chorus
Abide with Me by Henry Lyte & William Monk (pg. 133)
Abide with me, fast falls the eventide, the darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide; when other helpers fail and comforts flee, help of the helpless, O abide with me.
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day, earth’s joys grow dim, it’s glories pass away; change and decay in all around I see, O Thou who changest not, abide with me.
I need thy presence every passing hour, what but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power? Who like Thyself my guide and strength can be? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes, shine through the gloom and point me to the skies; Heaven’s morning breaks and earth’s vain shadows flee. In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
The Doxology by Thomas Ken (pg. 133)
Praise God from whom all blessings flow; Praise Him all creatures here below; Praise Him above, ye heavenly host; Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Jeanie With the Light Brown Hair by Stephen Foster – 1854 (pg. 150)
I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair, borne, like a vapor, on the soft summer air; I see her tripping where the bright streams play, happy as the daisies that dance on her way. Many were the wild notes her merry voice would pour, Many were the blithe birds that warbled them o’er:
Oh! I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair, floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air.
I long for Jeanie with the day dawn smile, radiant in gladness, warm with winning guile; I hear her melodies, like joys gone by, sighing round my heart o’er the fond hopes that die: sighing like the night wind and sobbing like the rain, wailing for the lost one that comes not again:
Oh! I long for Jeanie, and my heart bows low, never more to find her where the bright waters flow.
The Blue Tail Fly – minstrel tune (pg. 164)
When I was young I used to wait on my master and hand him his plate, and pass the bottle when he got dry, and brush away the blue tail fly.
(Chorus) Jimmy Crack Corn and I don’t care, Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care, jimmy crack corn and I don’t care, my master’s gone away!
And when he’d ride in the afternoon I’d follow after with a hickory broom; the pony being rather shy when bitten by the blue tail fly. Chorus
One day he ride around the farm, the flies so numerous they did swarm; one chanced to bite him on the thigh; the devil take the blue tail fly. Chorus
The pony run, he jump, he pitch; he threw my master in the ditch. He died and the jury wondered why the verdict was the blue tail fly. Chorus
The lay him under a ‘simmon tree; His epitaph is there to see: “Beneath this stone I’m forced to lie, victim of the blue tail fly.” Chorus
Sinner Man – camp meeting song (pg. 165)
(Chorus) Oh, sinner man, where are you going to run to? Oh, sinner man, where are you going to run to? Oh, sinner man, where are you going to run to all on that day?
Run to the moon: “Oh Moon, won’t you hide me?” Run to the moon: “Oh Moon, won’t you hide me?” Run to the moon: “Oh Moon, won’t you hide me all on that day?” The Lord said: “Oh, sinner man, the moon’ll be a-bleeding.” The Lord said: “Oh, sinner man, the moon’ll be a-bleeding.” The Lord said: “Oh, sinner man, the moon’ll be a-bleeding all on that day.” Chorus
Run to the stars: “Oh Stars, won’t you hide me?”(x3) The Lord said: “Oh, sinner man, the stars’ll be a-falling.” (x3) Chorus
Run to the sea: “Oh Sea, won’t you hide me?” (x3) The Lord said: “Oh, sinner man, the sea’ll be a-sinking.” (x3) Chorus
Run to Satan: “Oh, Satan, won’t you hide me?” (x3) Satan said: “Oh, sinner man, step right in.” (x3)
Ho! Westward Ho! by Ossian Dodge (pg. 173)
“The Star of Empire” poets say, Ho! Westward Ho! “Forever takes its onward way!” Ho! Westward Ho! That this be proven in our land, Ho! Westward Ho! It seems Jehovah’s great command, Ho! Westward Ho!
Ho! Westward! Soon the world shall know that all is grand in the western land! Ho! Westward Ho!
Our Pilgrim Fathers sang the song, Ho! Westward Ho! Hear Right should triumph over Wrong? Ho! Westward Ho! Still westward many thousands flock, Ho! Westward Ho! And sing the shout from Plymouth Rock, Ho! Westward Ho!
In the Sweet By and By by Sanford Bennett & Joseph Webster (pg. 223)
There’s a land that is fairer than day, and by faith we can see it afar; For the Father waits over the way, to prepare us a dwelling place there.
(Chorus) In the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore; In the sweet by and by, We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
We shall sing on that beautiful shore the melodious songs of the blest, and our spirits shall sorrow no more, not a sigh for the blessing of rest. Chorus
The Toast by Francis Hopkinson (pg. 232)
‘Tis Washington’s health, fill a bumper all round, for he is our glory and pride; Our arms shall in battle with conquest be crown’d whilst Virtue and he’s on our side. Our arms shall in battle with conquest be crown’d whilst Virtue and he’s on our side, and he’s on our side.
‘Tis Washington’s health, loud cannon should roar, and trumpets the truth should proclaim; There cannot be found, search all the world o’er, his equal in virtue and fame. Repeat as above.
‘Tis Washington’s health; our hero to bless, may heaven look graciously down; Oh, long may be live, our hearts to posses, and Freedom still call him her own. As above.
The Girl I Left Behind Me – traditional fife tune (pg. 242)
I’m lonesome since I cross’d the hill, and o’er the moor and valley; Such heavy thoughts my heart do fill, since parting with my Sally. I seek no more the fine and gay, for each does but remind me how swift the hours did pass away with the girl I’ve left behind me.
Oh, ne’er shall I forget the night, the stars were bright above me, and gently lent their silv’ry light, when first she vow’d she loved me. But now I’m bound for Brighton camp, kind Heav’n, may favor find me, and send me safely back again to the girl I’ve left behind me.
The Battle of Shiloh Hill lyrics by M. B. Smith (pg. 251)
Coma all you valiant soldiers, a story I will tell, about the bloody battle that was fought on Shiloh Hill; It was an awful struggle and will cause your blood to chill, it was the famous battle that was fought on Shiloh Hill.
It was the sixth of April, just at the break of day, the drums and fifes were playing for us to march away; the feeling of that hour I do remember still, for the wounded and the dying that lay on Shiloh Hill.
There were men from every nation laid on those bloody plains, fathers, sons, and brothers were numbered with the slain, that has caused so many homes with deep mourning to be filled, all from the bloody battle that was fought on Shiloh Hill.
Before the day was ended the battle ceased to roar, and thousands of brave soldiers had fell to rise no more; they left their vacant ranks for some other ones to fill, and now their mouldering bodies all lie on Shiloh Hill.
And now my song is ended about those bloody plains, I hope the sight by mortal man may ne’er be seen again; But I pray to God, the Savior, “If consistent with Thy will, to save the souls of all who fell on bloody Shiloh Hill.”
We’ll Fight for Uncle Abe by C.E. Pratt & Frederick Buckley (pg. 285)
Way down in old Virgini, I suppose you all do know, they have tried to bust the Union, but they find it is no go; The Yankee boys are starting out the Union for to save, and we’re going down to Washington to fight for Uncle Abe!
(Chorus) Rip, rap, flip, flap, strap your knapsack on your back, for we’re goin’ down to Washington to fight for Uncle Abe!
There’s a Good Time Coming by Stephen Foster (pg. 310)
There’s a good time coming, boys, a good time coming, a good time coming: We may not live to see the day, but earth shall listen in the ray of the good time coming. Cannon balls may aid the truth, the thought’s a weapon stronger; We’ll win our battle by its aid; Wait a little longer.
There’s a good time coming, boys, a good time coming, a good time coming: The pen shall supersede the sword, and right, not might, shall be the lord, in the good time coming; Worth, not birth, shall rule mankind, and be acknowledg’d stronger; the proper impulse shall be giv’n; Wait a little longer.
There’s a good time coming, boys, a good time coming, a good time coming: War in all mens’ eyes shall be a monster of iniquity in the good time coming. Nations shall not quarrel then, to prove which is the stronger; Nor slaughter men for glory’s sake; Wait a little longer.
Right to be Kilt by Miles O’Reilly (pg. 311)
Some tell me ’tis a burnin’ shame to let the darkies fight, and that the trade of bein’ kilt belongs but to the white. But as for me, upon my soul! so liberal we here, I’ll let him go fight instead of myself on every day in the year!
On every day in the year, boys, and in every hour in the day, the right to be kilt I’ll divide with him, and devil a word I’ll say.
Kingdom Coming by Henry C. Work (pg. 311)
Say, darkies, hab you seen de massa with de muffstash on his face, Go long de road some time dis mornin’ like he gwine to leave de place? He seen a smoke way up de ribber whar de Linkum gunboats lay; He took his hat and lef’ very sudden, an’ I spec’ he’s run away!
(Chorus) De massa run, ha, ha! De darky stay, ho, ho! It mus’ be now tde kingdom comin’, an’ de year of Jubilo!
He six foot one way, two the other, an’ he weigh three hundred pound, His coat so big, he couldn’t pay the tailor, an’ it won’t go half way ’round. He drill so much dey call him Cap’n an’ he got so dreadful tanned, I spec’ he try an’ fool dem Yankees for to think he’s contraband. Chorus
The Battle Cry of Freedom by George F. Root (pg. 332)
Oh, we’ll rally ’round the flag, boys, we’ll rally once again, shouting the battle cry of Freedom; we will rally from the hillside, we’ll gather from the plain, shouting the battle cry of Freedom!
(Chorus) The Union forever, Hurrah, boy’s, hurrah! Down with the Traitor, up with the Star, while we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, shouting the battle cry of Freedom!
We are springing to the call of our brothers gone before, shouting the battle cry of Freedom, and we’ll fill the vacant ranks with three hundred thousand more, shouting the battle cry of Freedom! Chorus
We will welcome to our number the loyal true and brave, shouting the battle cry of freedom, and although he may be poor, not a man shall be a slave, shouting the battle cry of Freedom! Chorus
So we’re springing to the call from the East and from the West, shouting the battle cry of Freedom, and we’ll hurl the Rebel crew from the land we love the best, shouting the battle cry of Freedom! Chorus
Marching Along by William Bradbury (pg. 372)
The army is gathering from near and from far; the trumpet is sounding the call for the war; McClellan’s our leader, he’s gallant and strong; We’ll gird on our armor and be marching along.
(Chorus) Marching along, we are marching along, gird on the armor and be marching along; McClellan’s our leader, he’s gallant and strong; For God and for country we are marching along.
The foe is before us in battle array, but let us not waver or turn from the way; the Lord is our strength and the Union’s our song; with courage and faith we are marching along. Chorus
Can I Go, Dearest Mother? by Bernard Covert (pg. 373)
I am writing to you, Mother, knowing well what you will say, when you read with tearful fondness what I write to you today. Knowing well the flame of ardor on a loyal mother’s part, that will kindle with each impulse, with each throbbing of your heart. I have heard my country calling for her sons that still are true; I have loved that country, Mother, only next to God and you; And my soul is springing forward to resist her bitter foe; Can I go, my dearest Mother? tell me, Mother, can I go?
From the battered walls of Sumter, from the wild waves of the sea, I have heard her cry for succor, as the voice of God to me; In prosperity I loved her, in her days of dark distress, with your spirit in me, Mother, could I love that country less? They have pierced her heart with treason, they have caused her sons to bleed, They have robbed her in her kindness, they have triumphed in her need; They have trampled on her standard, and she calls me in her woe; Can I go, my dearest Mother? tell me, Mother, can I go?
I am young and slender, Mother, they would call me yet a boy, but I know the land I live in, and the blessings I enjoy; I am old enough, my mother, to be loyal, proud and true, to be faithful to my country I have ever learned from you. We must conquer this rebellion: let the doubting heart be still; We must conquer it or perish. We must conquer, and we will! But the faithful must not falter, and shall I be wanting? No! Bid me go, my dearest Mother! tell me, Mother, can I go?
There will come a day of gladness, when the people of the Lord shall look proudly on their banner, which His mercy has restored; When the stars in perfect number, on their azure field of blue, shall be clustered in a Union, then and ever firm and true. I may live to see it, Mother, when the patriot’s work is done, and our heart so full of kindness will beat proudly for your son; or through tears your eyes may see it with a sadly thoughtful view, and may love it still more dearly for the cost it won from you.
I have written to you, mother, with a consciousness of right, I am thinking of you fondly, with a loyal heart tonight: When I have our noble bidding, which shall tell me to press on, I will come and kiss you, Mother, come and kiss you and be gone. In the sacred name of Freedom and my country as her due, in the name of Law and Justice, I have written this to you. I am eager, anxious, longing to resist my country’s foe; Shall I go, my dearest Mother? tell me, Mother, shall I go?
Lorena by H. D. L. Webster & J. P. Webster (pg. 374)
The years creep slowly by, Lorena, the snow is on the grass again; The sun’s low down the sky, Lorena, the frost gleams where the flowers have been. But the heart throbs on as warmly now, as when the summer days were nigh; Oh! the sun can never dip so low, a-down affection’s cloudless sky.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena, since last I held that hand in mine, and felt the pulse beat fast , Lorena, though mine beat faster far than thine. A hundred months ’twas flowery May, when up the hilly slope we climbed, to watch the dying of the day, and hear the distant church bells chime.
We loved each other then, Lorena, more than we ever dared to tell; and what we might have been, Lorena, had but our lovings prospered well – But then, ’tis past, the years are gone, I’ll not call up their shadowy forms; I’ll say to them, “Lost years, sleep on! Sleep on! nor heed life’s pelting storms.”
It matters little now, Lorena, the past is an eternal past; our heads will soon lie low, Lorena, life’s tide is ebbing out so fast. There is a Future! Oh, thank God! Of life this is so small a part! ‘Tis dust to dust beneath the sod; but there, up there, ’tis heart to heart.
Marching Through Georgia by Henry C. Work (pg. 393)
Bring the good old bugle, boys, we’ll sing another 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! Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!” So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea, while we were marching through Georgia.
“Sherman’s dashing Yankee boys will never reach the coast!” so the saucy rebels said, and ’twas a handsome boast, had they not forgot, alas! to reckon with the host, while we were marching through Georgia. Chorus
So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train, sixty miles in latitude, three hundred to the main; Treason felt before us, for resistance was in vain, while we were marching through Georgia. Chorus
The Strife is O’er – old hymn (pg. 398)
(Chorus) Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
The strife is o’er, the battle done; the victory of life is won; the song of triumph has begun; alleluia!
The powers of death have done their worst, but Christ their legions hath dispersed; let shouts of holy joy outburst. Alleluia!
The three sad days have quickly sped, He rises glorious from the dead; all glory to our risen head. Alleluia!
The King of Love My Shepherd Is by Henry Baker & John Dykes (pg. 398)
The King of Love my Shepherd is, whose goodness faileth never; I nothing lack since I am His and He is mine forever.
Where streams of living water flow my ransomed soul He leadeth, and where the verdant pastures grow, with food celestial feedeth.
Perverse and foolish oft I strayed, but yet in love He sought me, and on His shoulder gently laid, and home rejoicing brought me.
And so through all the length of days Thy goodness faileth never; Good Shepherd may I sing Thy praise within Thy house forever.
Buffalo Gals – minstrel tune (pg. 405)
As I was walking down the street, down the street, down the street, a pretty little gal I chanced to meet, under the silvery moon.
(Chorus) Buffalo gals, won’t you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight? Buffalo gals, won’t you come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon?
I asked her if she’d stop and talk, stop and talk, stop and talk. Her covered up the whole sidewalk, oh! she was fair to see. Chorus
I asked her if she’d be my wife, be my wife, be my wife, then I’d be happy all my life, if she would marry me. Chorus