The Old Union Wagon
The Old Union Wagon.
The eagle of Columbia, in majesty and pride,
Still soars aloft in glory, though traitors have defied
The flag we dearly cherish––with heart and hand joined,
Baptized in blood of heroes down at North Point
The war screech of that eagle is heard from shore to shore
For clouds of dark rebellion our sky has shrouded o’er;
But freedom and its sunlight will break the gloomy pall,
And scorch the brow of treason with powder, shell and ball,
King Cotton may be master o’er those who bend the knee;
But cannot rule a people who ever will be free
As are the winds of heaven––whose every thought and deed
Shall emanate from Justice, and not from Cotton seed.
Old Abe is in the wagon, and Scott is by his side,
And Seward drives the horses, to take a Union ride;
While Banks is not idel, and Kenly is true.
And all are in the wagon with Yankee-doodle-doo.
There’s none can smash the wagon––’tis patented and strong
And built of pure devotion, by those who hate the wrong––
Its wheels are made of freedom, which patriots adore;
The spokes, when rightly counted, just number thirty-four.