Come all ye valiant soldiers — a story I will tellAbout 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.'Twas on 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,When first my feet were tromping on the top of Shiloh Hill.About the hour of sunrise the battle it began;Before the day was ended, we fought 'em hand to hand.The horrors of that field did my heart with anguish fillFor 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.The wounded men were crying for help from everywhere,While others who were dying were offering God their prayer,"Protect my wife and children if it is Thy holy will!"Such were the prayers I heard that night on Shiloh Hill.And early the next morning we were called to arms again,Unmindful of the wounded and unuseful to the slain;The struggle was renewed again, and ten thousand men were killed;This was the second conflict of the famous Shiloh Hill.The battle it raged on, though dead and dying menLay thick all o'er the ground, on the hill and on the glen;And from their deadly wounds, the blood ran like a rill;Such were the mournful sights that I saw 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 Saviour, "If consistent with Thy will,To save the souls of all who fell on bloody Shiloh Hill."
WHEN SHERMAN MARCHED DOWN TO THE SEAOur camp-fires shone bright on the mountains That frowned on the river below,While we stood by our guns in the morning, And eagerly watched for the foe;When a rider came out of the darkness That hung over mountain and tree,And shouted: "Boys, up and be ready! For Sherman will march to the sea!"Then cheer upon cheer for bold Sherman Went up from each valley and glen,And the bugles re-echoed the music That came from the lips of the men;For we knew that the stars in our banner More bright in their splendor would be,And that blessings from Northland would greet us While Sherman marched down to the sea.Then forward, boys! forward to battle! We marched on our perilous way,And we stormed the wild hills of Resaca-- God bless those who fell on that day!Then Kennesaw, dark in its glory, Frowned down on the flag of the free,But the East and the West bore our standards When Sherman marched down to the sea.Still onward we pressed till our banners Swept out from Atlanta's grim walls,And the blood of the patriot dampened The soil where the traitor flag falls.We paused not to weep for the fallen, Who sleep by each river and tree,But we twined them a wreath of the laurel, And Sherman marched on to the sea.Oh, proud was our army that morning, That stood where the pine darkly towers,When Sherman said, "Boys, you are weary, But to-day fair Savannah is ours."Then sang we a song for our chieftain, That echoed o'er river and lea,And the stars in our banner shone brighter When Sherman marched down to the sea.
STONEWALL JACKSON'S WAYby John Williamson Palmer(1825-1906)Come, stack arms, men. Pile on the rails, Stir up the campfire bright;No matter if the canteen fails, We'll make a roaring night.Here Shenandoah brawls along, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strongTo swell the brigade's rousing song Of "Stonewall Jackson's way."We see him now--the old slouched hat Cocked o'er his eye askew--The shrewd, dry smile--the speech so pat-- So calm, so blunt, so true.That "Blue-Light Elder" knows 'em well-- Says he, "That's Banks; he's fond of shell--Lord save his soul! We'll give him"...well, That's "Stonewall Jackson's way."Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off! Old Blue Light's going to pray;Strangle the fool that dares to scoff; Attention; it's his way!Appealing from his native sod, In forma pauperis to God--"Lay bare thine arm; stretch forth thy rod;Amen." That's "Stonewall's way."He's in the saddle now! Fall in! Steady, the whole brigade!Hill's at the ford, cut off! He'll win His way out, ball and blade.What matter if our shoes are worn? What matter if our feet are torn?"Quick step--we're with him ere the dawn!" That's "Stonewall Jackson's way."The sun's bright glances rout the mists Of morning, and, by George!There's Longstreet struggling in the lists, Hemmed in an ugly gorge--Pope and his Yankees whipped before-- "Bayonet and grape!" hear Stonewall roar,"Charge, Stuart! Pay off Ashby's score In Stonewall Jackson's way."Ah, maiden! wait and watch and yearn For news of Stonewall's band!Ah, widow! read with eyes that burn That ring upon thy hand!Ah, wife! sew on, pray on, hope on, Thy life shall not be all forlorn--The foe had better ne'er been born, That gets in Stonewall's way.
WE ARE COMING, FATHER ABRAHAMWords by James Sloan GibbonsMusic L.O. EmersonWe are coming, Father Abraham, 300,000 more,From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore.We leave our plows and workshops, our wives and children dear,With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear.We dare not look behind us but steadfastly before.We are coming, Father Abraham, 300,000 more!CHORUS: We are coming, we are coming our Union to restore,We are coming, Father Abraham, 300,000 more!If you look across the hilltops that meet the northern sky,Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry;And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloudy veil aside,And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride;And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour,We are coming, father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more!If you look up all our valleys where the growing harvests shine,You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast forming into line;And children from their mother's knees are pulling at the weeds ,And learning how to reap and sow against their country's needs;And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door,We are coming, Father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more!You have called us, and we're coming by Richmond's bloody tide, To lay us down for freedom's sake, our brothers' bones beside;Or from foul treason's savage group, to wrench the murderous blade;And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade. Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before,We are coming, Father Abraham, 300,000 more!
SOUTHERN SOLDIER BOY Not sure of the author, but Kathy Mattea does a great version of this song:Bob Roebuck is my sweetheart's name,He's off to the wars and gone;He's fighting for his Nanny dear,His sword is buckled on, He's fighting for his own true love;His foes he does defy;He is the darling of my heart,My Southern soldier boy.When Bob comes home from war's alarms,We'll start anew in life;I'll give myself right up to him,A dutiful, loving wife.I'll try my best to please my dear,For he is my only joy,He is the darling of my heart, My Southern soldier boy. Oh, if in battle he were slain,I know that I would die,But I am sure he'll come againTo cheer my weeping eye. But should he fall in this our glorious cause,He still would be my joy,For many a sweetheart mourns the lossOf her Southern soldier boy. I hope for the best, and so do allWhose hopes are in the field;I know that we shall win the dayFor Southrons never yield. And when we think of those who are away,We look above for joy,And I'm mighty glad that my Bobby isA Southern soldier boy.
I don't know if you had seen it, but I put a link in the Links area to a site which has song melodies for many historical American tunes.http://www.contemplator.com/america/You may be able to find tunes to some of the songs here that you've included.
Words and music by William Shakespeare Hays(1837-1907)McClellan is the man:The cruel war must have an end;I'll tell you what we'll do;We'll cast our votes for "Little Mac,"We're bound to put him through.The widow's wails and orphan's tears Prevailing o'er the land Pray heaven to send a rare relief--McClellan is the man.CHORUS:Shout! boys, shout! and rally all you can,We'll have another Washington-- McClellan is the man!Corruption sits in places high, And Shoddy rules the roast;"Fight on!" is still Corruption's cry, "More spoils!" is Shoddy's boast.But we, the people, sov'reigns all, Declare our righteous cause;"The Constitution as it is, The Union as it was."CHORUSThis cruel war will never cease Until the South comes back;The only man to do the work Is glorious "Little Mac."Then let us put him in the chair, And he will give us peace;For "Peace in Union" is his sin, And war's alarms will cease.CHORUSLet's heal dissentions and unite, Then, stronger than be-fore,We'll bear our banner through the world, The flag our fathers bore.In many stripes and golden stars Shall give the people ease;And all th'opressed of every clime Will hail our happy peace.CHORUSThe hot-heads South cried "Let's secede," But find it doesn't pay;The hot-heads North cried "Confiscate, And then we'll have our way."But both have failed and always will; There is a better plan:We'll choose a righteous President-- McClellan is the man!CHORUS
I was looking through there and trying to find themes in the song lyrics that are also themes from this year's presidential election. Interesting how much things change, how much they stay the same. 🙂
Here is a short list of contemparary singers/songs about the civil war, if you know of any to add feel free:Johnny Horton:Battle of Bull RunJohnny RebSteve Earle:DixielandBen McCulloch http://www.lsjunction.com/people/mccullob.htmTravis Tritt:The Day the Sun Stood Still
Very moving music indeed. All the lyrics and links much appreciated. Now I'm sure that you have all seen “Gods and Generals”, “Gettesburg” and other fine civil war films, good music included. I have to say that I was very surprised and moved by “Cold Mountain” images that linger and suffering so illustrated makes me sad and proud.