H. DE MARSAN, Publisher, 54 Chatham Street, New-York.
This Southern rebellion has raised a mighty fuss,
And before it ends, I fear it will make things a great deal worse;
With Stonewall Jackson at their head, they threaten us to whale,
And every man they take from us, to lodge in Richmond Jail.
That traitor old Jeff Davis thinks that we are near whipped,
But we’ll show him that, like Lawrence, we will not give up
John Bull with intervention thinks our gallant boys to scare,
But he’ll soon find out we can’t be beat, or sent to Richmond Jail.
Foremost among all others, the Sixty-Ninth did go,
To meet their Southern foemen, in response to Lincoln’s call:
The gallant Corcoran at their head, as they marched down
Not thinking then how soon he’d be locked up in Richmond Jail.
That ever memorable day of the battle of Bull-Run!
Bold Corcoran was in the field and showed the rebels fun;
Protecting our army’s rear, mid cannon ball like hail,
’Twas then that he was taken, boys, and lodged in Richmond Jail.
It was while thus in bondage, they offered him parole;
But he nobly did refuse it, saying: I would not sell my soul;
Your parole of honor you may keep, I’d rather much remain,
Yes, and rather die than take it to get our of Richmond Jail.
At length the glorious day came, on which he did return,
And many a gallant Irish heart with noble ardor burned:
They flew unto his standard, and swore they would not fail
To avenge his foul imprisonment, way down in Richmond Jail.
Soon this gallant Irish corps to rebeldom will go,
To confront, with man and musket, Stonewall Jackson’s rabid horde
At the point of the bayonet, for which they are so famed;
Once more he’ll go to Richmond, boys, but not to Richmond Jail.
Then give me your attention, I’m about to end my song,
The few words I’ve to say to you will not detain you long:
When next they meet our Corcoran, the rebel raid will quail,
And skedaddle back to Richmond from that man of Richmond Jail.