In my younger days I had been accustomed somewhat occasionally to indulge myself in the attempt of writing what out of courtesy to my literary qualifications might be called poetry, though my life was too busy a life to indulge much in sentiment or even to indulge much in imagination. Some time the year before I wrote this for my wife's birthday, I composed and wrote the following for the benefit of the Early Settler's Association of Polk county, which was sung with considerable enthusiasm at several of their picnic celebrations. The song is sung to the tune of "John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the grave," and is as follows: The early settlers' picnic has come around again, And here we are together the few that still remain, To exchange our hearty greetings and to join in this refrain, As we go marching on. Chorus--Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah, We still are marching on. 'Tis many years ago since we all came out west To grow up with the country that is now the very best. God gave the soil and climate and the settlers did the rest When they came marching on. Chorus-- We left our homes in yonder for the far off Iowa. We came and saw her beauty and settled down to stay, And there's not a soul among us that has ever rued the day When we came marching on. Chorus-- This is the land of promise where the milk and honey flow, With corn and pumpkin plenty, and where pies and puddings grow, With every other blessing that nature can bestow As we go marching on. Chorus-- We may seem a little older for our heads are silvered o'er, But our hearts are still as young as they were in days of yore, And we still recount the blessings the future has in store As we go marching on. Chorus-- This is a goodly land where we have lived and loved together; We have borne the heat of Summer and faced the coldest weather. Glory, hallelujah! our Iowa forever! We still are marching on. Chorus-- Our nation is united as it never was before, All are happy and contented with old glory floating o'er. We are coming Father Abraham with many millions more, We all are marching on. Chorus-- Our column is unbroken though some have gone before, They have passed across the river and have reached the shining shore, And are waiting there to greet us as they did in days of yore When we were marching on. Chorus-- End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Autobiography of Charles Clinton Nourse, by Charles Clinton Nourse