Secession Wagon

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

Secession Wagon.

Jeff. Davis built a wagon, and on it put his name,
And Beauregard was the driver of Secession’s ugly frame:
The horse he would get hungry, as most of horses do,
They had to keep the collar tight to keep from pulling through

The axles wanted greasing, the body wasn’t wide,
North Carolina jumped into it, Mississippi by her side;
Virginia took a cushioned seat, and Louisiana next,
South Carolina got to “scrouging,” and Florida got vexed.

They asked Kentucky to take a ride, she said the horse was blind,
She shook her head at seeing Tennessee jump on behind;
But Jeff. assured her all was right, the wagon it was new,
Missouri winked at Beauregard, and said it wouldn’t do.

Old Scott brought out his wagon, one that had run for years;
They caught old Union, hitched him up, and greased the running gears:
Said Scott, McClellan youre the boy I want to fill my place,
So take the reins, and get the folks, and give Secesh a race.

New York and Pennsylvania, with a host of Yankee boys,
Got up into the wagon and they called for Illinois;
And old Ohio she jumped in, Missouri tried her luck,
And Indianna threw her arms around good old Kentuck.

Old Union threw his head back, he traveled rather slow,
Until they reached Manassas, they hallooed let him go!
Their cheers for the Union made him put new mettle in his head,
He ran into Secession,—tore the spokes out of a wheel.

They took the broken wagon back, and put in all new spokes,
Secesh went out towards Kentuck, to tell it to the folks,
Old Union started after, and he made the welkin ring
When he run into Secession at a little place—Mill Spring.

Secesh got scared and ran away—the like was never seen,
Old Union threw his head back and sailed through Bowling Green;
Secesh ran to the Cumberland and couldn’t get across,
He broke the reins that guided him, and trusted to the hoss.

Old Union got his “dander up,” and passed him “under way”
He ran into Fort Donelson, but didn’t go to stay.
Tennessee fell out the wagon, and the balance of them cried,
And asked McClellan ad he passed, Say, Mister! Let us ride?

They went from there to Nashville, and there they’ll change the scenes,
They’ll grease the axles, turn old Union’s head toward New Orleans;
They’ll stop at Memphis, feed the hoss, and then they’ll let him go,
To drag Secesh’s rotten frame to the Gulf of Mexico.

Now Buckner he’s gone up the spout, and Floyd has seen the sights,
And all the boys that went away with Buckner for their “rights”—
Ah! Boys, you’ve seen the elephant—I hope it won’t be long
’Till you’ll be singing out with joy, “THE UNION, RIGHT OR WRONG!”

A. W. AUNER, SONG PUBLISHER, 110 North 10th St., ab. Arch, Philadelphia.

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