Old Union Wagon



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––the emblem of our will––
Bapitzed in blood of heroes, ’way down on Bunker Hill.

The war-screech of that eagle is heard from shore to shore.
For clouds of dark rebellion our sky have 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 he 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,
And Seward drives the horses, to take a Union ride;
While Butler is not idle, and Stanton is true,
And we’re all 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.

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

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