_We are Marching on to Richmond._ WORDS AND MUSIC BY E. W. LOCKE. Published by the permission of the Composer. 1. Our knapsacks sling and blithely sing, We're marching on to 2. Our foes are near, their drums we hear, They're camped a-bout in Rich-mond; With weap-ons bright, and hearts so light, We're Rich-mond; With pick-ets out, to tell the route Our march-ing on to Rich-mond; Each wea-ry mile with Ar-my takes to Rich-mond; We've craft-y foes to song be-guile, We're marching on to Richmond; The roads are meet our blows, No doubt they'll fight for Richmond; The brave may rough, but smooth e-nough To take us safe to Richmond. die, but nev-er fly, We'll cut our way to Richmond. CHORUS. Then tramp a-way while the bu-gles play, We're march-ing on to Rich-mond; Our flag shall gleam in the morn-ing beam, From man-y a spire in Rich-mond. 3. "But yesterday, in murderous fray, While marching on to Richmond, We parted here from comrades dear, While marching on to Richmond; With manly sighs and tearful eyes, While marching on to Richmond, We laid the braves in peaceful graves, And started on to Richmond. 4. "Our friends away are sad to-day, Because we march to Richmond; With loving fear they shrink to hear About our march to Richmond; The pen shall tell that they who fell While marching on to Richmond, Had hearts aglow and face to foe, And died in sight of Richmond. 5. "Our thoughts shall roam to scenes of home, While marching on to Richmond; The vacant chair that's waiting there, While we march on to Richmond; 'Twill not be long till shout and song We'll raise aloud in Richmond, And war's rude blast will soon be past, And we'll go home from Richmond." This song-writer had brought a song to the great Springfield assembly. He sang it when the people were in a receptive mood. It voiced their hearts, and its influence was electric. As he rose before the assembly on that August day under the prairie sun, and sang: "Hark! hark! a signal-gun is heard," a stillness came over the great sea of the people. The figures of the first verse filled the imagination, but the chorus was like a bugle-call: "THE SHIP OF STATE. "(Sung at the Springfield Convention.) "Hark! hark! a signal-gun is heard, Just out beyond the fort; The good old Ship of State, my boys, Is coming into port. With shattered sails, and anchors gone, I fear the rogues will strand her; She carries now a sorry crew, And needs a new commander. "Our Lincoln is the man! Our Lincoln is the man! With a sturdy mate From the Pine-Tree State, Our Lincoln is the man!