I thought I’d better come to town, I brought along my gun, sir; We guessed quite likely there’d be work, Or praps there might be fun, sir; I heerd wild geese was plenty, now, A comin’ from the south’ard, And thought I’d like a shot at some-- If you ain’t too much bothered. My father sends his duty, sir; He says that things is growin’, And wants to know what he can do T’ help the men that’s goin’. Mother, she looks kind o’ scared, But fixed my things to come, sir; She didn’t want me, jest, to start, Nor jest to stay at home, sir. There’s brother Jim, he’s fierce to fight, “Too young, boy,” says the jury; (Jim’s seventeen) so he gets mad And works away like fury. He’s nigh about as tall as I, That’s six foot and a quarter, (Han’t measured lately, but I guess I can’t ha’ grown much shorter.) Now, what d’ye spose Jerusha said, With her black eyes a snappin’? She’s jest my second cousin, sir, One seldom caught a nappin’. She said if she could see a man A fightin’ for the flag, sir, That she would give her new silk gown And call it but a rag, sir. I’d meant before to come, for sure, But that was jest a clincher; I never was a soldier, yit, But might be at a pinch, sir. I’ll try--and if my lamp goes out Afore their shot and brag, sir, Jest tell Jerusha how I died A fightin’ for the flag, sir. 66 Three Cheers for Our Banner. Copied by permission of HORACE WATERS, Music Publisher, 481 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright. Three cheers for our Banner, the Stripes and the Stars, The ensign of Liberty’s glorious wars! Fling it out to the breezes, its colors display, Let our Standard float boldly in face of the day. We will stand by this Banner, through fire and flood, We will guard and defend it, though crimson’d with blood. CHORUS. Then three cheers for our Banner, in peace and in wars, We will ever be true to the Stripes and the Stars. Three cheers for our Union, the land of our birth; ’Tis the fortress of freedom, the hope of the earth; Arouse you, ye sons of the East and the West, To defend it, though blood flow from each gallant breast; Remember, a noble old poet has said, ’Tis sweet, for our country, to sleep with the dead. The noble young heroes, who rescue her name, Columbia will crown, with the garland of fame; If they fall, she will weep o’er their glorious scars, And will lay them to rest ’neath her Banner of Stars; We know the Volunteers will always be found In the van of the host, on the blood-redden’d ground.