The Old Union Wagon

H. DE MARSAN, Publisher. 54 Chatham Street, New-York.

The Old Union Wagon.

The Eagle of Columbia, in majesty and pride,
Shall soar aloft in glory, though traitors have defied
The flag we dearly cherish, the emblem of our will,
Baptized in blood of heroes, way down on Bunker-bill.

The war-screech of the eagle is heard from shore to shore;
For, with clouds of black rebellion, our sky is clouded o’er;
But Freedom and its sunlight will break the gloomy pall,
Or scorch the brow of treason, with powder, shot and ball.

King Cotton may be master to 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 McClellan by his side,
Seward drives the horses, to take a Union ride;
While Butler is not idle, and Cameron is true,
And we are in the wagon with Yankee doodle do.

There’s none can smash the wagon, it’s patented and strong;
It’s built of true devotion, by those who hate the wrong;
Its wheels are made of freedom, while patriots adore;
The Spokes, when rightly counted, just number thirty-four.

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