Jefferson "D"

AUNER’S PRINTING OFFICE, 110 N. TENTH ST., ab. ARCH.

You’re a traitor convicted, you know very well,

You thought it a capital thing to rebel,

But there’s one thing I’ll say,
You’ll discover some day,
When you see a stout cotton cord hang from a tree,
There’s an accident happened you did’nt forsee,

There’s an accident happened you did’nt forsee,

What shall be found upon history’s page,

When the student explores the republican age?

He will find as is meet,
That at Judas’s feet
You sit in your shame, with the impotent plea,
That you hated the land and the law of the free,

That you hated the land and the law of the free,

What do you see in your visions at night?

Does the spectacle furnish you any delight?

Do you feel in disgrace
The black cap o’er your face,
While the tremor creeps down form the heart to your knee,
And freedom, insulted, approves the decree?

And freedom, insulted, approves the decree?

Oh, long have we pleaded, till pleading in vain,

Your hands are imbrued with the blood of the slain,

And at last for the right
We rise in our might,
A people united, resistless and free,
And declare that rebellion no longer shall be,

And declare that rebellion no longer shall be,

A.W. AUNER, SONG PUBLISHER, 100 N. 10th St., ab. Arch, Philadelphia.

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