BURN YOUR COTTON.* BY DR. S. SILSBEE. BURN your cotton-burn it, burn it Let the flaming incense rise, With the shrieks of human chattels, Where man's freedom is denied. Burn your cotton-oh! 'tis noble! On-who never owned a bale. To whom gods have given madness "Hari Kari" is a boon. Burn it, burn it, for the cotton *See page 187, REBEL RHYMES. All the rest is yours by pillage, Yes, by all means, burn your cotton, Light the fires, explode the mine; Freedom never more will worship At your cotton monarch's shrine. Burn your cotton, crazy traitors; 'Tis your cue, without a doubt— In the coming retribution You'll be nearly all "played out." Burn your cotton, for the freemen Light it, light it! 'tis the battle Torch of freedom and the brave, That our patriot fathers gave. Fire your hearts, and burn the cotton- In the ashes shall expire. And upon the blazing pyre, too, Human slavery we'll fling, Until justice-human justice— And not Cotton, shall be King. Cincinnati, August 10, 1862. MY MARYLAND. THE rebel feet are on our shore, I smell 'em half a mile or more, Maryland! My Maryland! Their shockless hordes are at my door, Maryland! My Maryland! Hark to our noses' dire appeal, Maryland! My Maryland O unwashed rebs! to you we kneel, If you can't purchase soap, oh! steal Like scratching from the head to heel, You're covered thick with mud and dust, As though you'd been upon a bust, Remember, it is scarcely just, To have a filthy fellow thrust I see no blush upon thy cheek, It's not been washed for many a week, To get thee clean-'tis truth I speak— July, 1862. Maryland! My Maryland! TAKE NO STEP BACKWARD! Inscribed to the Thirty-eighth Congress of the United States. BY W. D. GALLAGHER. NAKE no step backward! The eternal ages Look down upon you from their height sublime, And witness the events which history's pages Take no step backward! Centuries of oppression Are culminating 'midst our nation's throes And wrong that might have stood, with fair concession, Yields to the force of self-inflicted blows. The hand grown horny in the life-long labor That clothed and pampered those who held it bound, Now grasps the gun, or wields the flashing sabre, And wins and wears its honors on the ground. |