 | War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. |  |
CARRIE B. SINCLAIR.
Miss Sinclair was born in Milledgeville, Georgia, in 1839.
She was long a resident of Augusta, Ga. Two volumes of her
poems have been published, and several of her spirited war-songs
were set to music.
GEORGIA, MY GEORGIA.
Hark! 'tis the cannon's deafening roar,
That sounds along thy sunny shore,
And thou shalt lie in chains no more,
My wounded, bleeding Georgia!
Then arm each youth and patriot sire,
Light up the patriotic fire,
And bid the zeal of those ne'er tire,
Who strike for thee, my Georgia!
That sounds along thy sunny shore,
And thou shalt lie in chains no more,
My wounded, bleeding Georgia!
Then arm each youth and patriot sire,
Light up the patriotic fire,
And bid the zeal of those ne'er tire,
Who strike for thee, my Georgia!
On thee is laid oppression's hand,
Around thy altars foemen stand,
To scatter freedom's gallant band,
And lay thee low, my Georgia!
But thou hast noble sons and brave,
The stars and bars above thee wave,
And here we'll make oppression's grave,
Upon the soil of Georgia!
Around thy altars foemen stand,
To scatter freedom's gallant band,
And lay thee low, my Georgia!
But thou hast noble sons and brave,
The stars and bars above thee wave,
And here we'll make oppression's grave,
Upon the soil of Georgia!
118
We bow at Liberty's fair shrine,
And kneel in holy love at thine,
And while above our stars still shine,
We'll strike for them and Georgia!
Thy woods with victory shall resound,
Thy brow shall be with laurels crowned,
And peace shall spread her wings around
My own, my sunny Georgia!
And kneel in holy love at thine,
And while above our stars still shine,
We'll strike for them and Georgia!
Thy woods with victory shall resound,
Thy brow shall be with laurels crowned,
And peace shall spread her wings around
My own, my sunny Georgia!
Yes, these shall teach thy foes to feel
That Southern hearts, and Southern steel,
Will make them in submission kneel
Before the sons of Georgia!
And thou shalt see thy daughters, too,
With pride and patriotism true,
Arise with strength to dare and do,
Ere they shall conquer Georgia!
That Southern hearts, and Southern steel,
Will make them in submission kneel
Before the sons of Georgia!
And thou shalt see thy daughters, too,
With pride and patriotism true,
Arise with strength to dare and do,
Ere they shall conquer Georgia!
Thy name shall be a name of pride
Thy heroes all have nobly died,
That thou mayest be the spotless bride
Of Liberty, my Georgia!
Then wave thy sword and banner high,
And louder raise the battle-cry,
Till shouts of victory reach the sky,
And thou art free, my Georgia!
Thy heroes all have nobly died,
That thou mayest be the spotless bride
Of Liberty, my Georgia!
Then wave thy sword and banner high,
And louder raise the battle-cry,
Till shouts of victory reach the sky,
And thou art free, my Georgia!
THE HOME-SPUN DRESS.
Oh, yes! I am a Southern girl,
And glory in the name,
And boast it with far greater pride
Than glittering wealth or fame;
We envy not the Northern girl,
Her robes of beauty rare,
Though diamonds grace her snowy neck,
And pearls bedeck her hair.
And glory in the name,
And boast it with far greater pride
Than glittering wealth or fame;
We envy not the Northern girl,
Her robes of beauty rare,
Though diamonds grace her snowy neck,
And pearls bedeck her hair.
Chorus—(Air: "Bonnie Blue Flag")
Hurrah! Hurrah!
For the Sunny South so dear,
Three cheers for the home-spun dress,
The Southern ladies wear!
Hurrah! Hurrah!
For the Sunny South so dear,
Three cheers for the home-spun dress,
The Southern ladies wear!
The home-spun dress is plain, I know,
My hat's palmetto, too;
But then it shows what Southern girls
For Southern rights will do;
We send the bravest of our land
To battle with the foe,
And we will lend a helping hand—
We love the South, you know.
Chorus. Hurrah! Hurrah! etc.
My hat's palmetto, too;
But then it shows what Southern girls
For Southern rights will do;
We send the bravest of our land
To battle with the foe,
And we will lend a helping hand—
We love the South, you know.
Chorus. Hurrah! Hurrah! etc.
120
Now Northern goods are out of date;
And since old Abe's blockade,
We Southern girls can be content
With goods that are Southern made;
We send our sweethearts to the war,
But, dear girls, never mind!
Your soldier-love will ne'er forget
The girl he left behind.
Chorus. Hurrah! Hurrah! etc.
And since old Abe's blockade,
We Southern girls can be content
With goods that are Southern made;
We send our sweethearts to the war,
But, dear girls, never mind!
Your soldier-love will ne'er forget
The girl he left behind.
Chorus. Hurrah! Hurrah! etc.
The soldier is the lad for me—
A brave heart I adore;
And when the Sunny South is free,
And when fighting is no more,
I'll choose me then a lover brave,
From out that gallant band,
The soldier-lad I love the best,
Shall have my heart and hand.
Chorus. Hurrah! Hurrah! etc.
A brave heart I adore;
And when the Sunny South is free,
And when fighting is no more,
I'll choose me then a lover brave,
From out that gallant band,
The soldier-lad I love the best,
Shall have my heart and hand.
Chorus. Hurrah! Hurrah! etc.
The Southern land's a glorious land,
And has a glorious cause;
Then cheer, three cheers for Southern rights,
And for our Southern beaux!
And has a glorious cause;
Then cheer, three cheers for Southern rights,
And for our Southern beaux!
121
We scorn to wear a bit of silk,
A bit of Northern lace,
But make our home-spun dresses up,
And wear them, too, with grace.
Chorus. Hurrah! Hurrah! etc.
A bit of Northern lace,
But make our home-spun dresses up,
And wear them, too, with grace.
Chorus. Hurrah! Hurrah! etc.
And now, young man, a word to you:
If you would win the fair,
Go to the field where honor calls,
And win your lady there;
Remember that our brightest smiles
Are for the true and brave,
And that our tears are all for those
Who fill a soldier's grave.
Chorus. Hurrah! Hurrah! etc.
If you would win the fair,
Go to the field where honor calls,
And win your lady there;
Remember that our brightest smiles
Are for the true and brave,
And that our tears are all for those
Who fill a soldier's grave.
Chorus. Hurrah! Hurrah! etc.
| War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. | |