The Northern hordes invasion threat,
But we are not alarmed;
We made them at Big Bethel sweat,
With not ten Rebels harmed!
Their ships, and men by hundreds pour;
“All eager for the fray”—
But when they reach Potomac’s shore,
More glad to get away!
The Northern hordes subjection cry,
They are not by us feared;
Each Southron for his rights will die,
By honor onward steered.
We’re anxious, waiting, ready,
Prepared in purse and mind;
To free the South of all her foes,
And leave not one behind.
Amalgamation is the cry,
Which nerves these Hessians on;
For Nigger brides they all will die,
We treat their boasts with scorn.
For sainted Beecher, Greeley, Stowe,
Now raise on high their wail;
They know that they have caused this woe,
And feel that they must fail!
For Abolition Cameron shrieks,
And servile insurrection;
His secret from the Tribune leaks,
In howls of deep dejection.
They laud up freedom to the sky,
By this to show their weakness;
Their acts to words now give the lie,
Despite their seeming meekness.