Three Hundred Thousand More


Three hundred Thousand more.

We are coming, Father Abraam, three hundred thousand more,
From Mississippi;s winding stream and from New England’s shore;
We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear,
With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear
We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before—
We are coming, Father Abraam—three hundred thousand more!

If you look across the hill-tops, that meet the northern sky,
Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry;
And now the winds, an instant, tears the cloudy veil aside,
And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride;
And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour—
We are coming, Father Abraam-three hundred thousand more?

If you look all up our valleys. where the growing harvest shine,
You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast forming into line:
And children from their mother’s knees are pulling at the weeds,
And learning how to reap and sow, against their country’s needs;
And a farewell group stands weeping at evry cottage door—
We are coming, Father Abraan—three hundred thousand more!

You have called us, and we’re coming, by Richmond’s bloody tide,
To lay us down for freedom’s sake, our brothers’ bones beside;
Or from soul treason’s savage grasp to wrench the murderous blade,
And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade,
Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before—
We are coming, Father Abraam—three hundred thousand more!

Item Information help

blog comments powered by Disqus