Secession is our watchword; Our rights we all demand; To defend our homes and firesides We pledge our hearts and hands. Jeff. Davis is our President, With Stephens by his side; Great Beauregard our General; He joins us in our ride. _Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc. Our wagon is the very best; The running gear is good; Stuffed round the sides with cotton, And made of Southern wood. Carolina is the driver, With Georgia by her side; Virginia holds the flag up, While we all take a ride. _Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc. The invading tribe, called Yankees, With Lincoln for their guide, Tried to keep Kentucky From joining in the ride; But she heeded not their entreaties-- She has come into the ring; She wouldn't fight for a government Where cotton wasn't king. _Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc. Old Lincoln and his Congressmen, With Seward by his side, Put old Scott in the wagon, Just for to take a ride. McDowell was the driver, To cross Bull Run he tried, But there he left the wagon For Beauregard to ride. _Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc. Manassas was the battle-ground; The field was fair and wide; The Yankees thought they'd whip us out, And on to Richmond ride; But when they met our "Dixie" boys, Their danger they espied; They wheeled about for Washington, And didn't wait to ride. _Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc. Brave Beauregard, God bless him! Led legions in his stead, While Johnson seized the colors And waved them o'er his head. To rising generations, With pleasure we will tell How bravely our Fisher And gallant Johnson fell. _Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc.[8] MY WIFE AND CHILD. BY GEN. HENRY R. JACKSON, OF GEORGIA. The tattoo beats, the lights are gone, The camp around in slumber lies; The night with solemn pace moves on, And sad, uneasy thoughts arise. I think of thee, oh, dearest one! Whose love my early life has blest; Of thee and him, our baby son, Who slumbers on thy gentle breast. God of the tender, hover near To her whose watchful eye is wet; The mother, wife--the doubly dear-- And cheer her drooping spirits yet. Now, while she kneels before thy throne, Oh, teach her, Ruler of the Skies! No tear is wept to thee unknown, No hair is lost, no sparrow dies. That thou canst stay the ruthless hand Of dark disease, and soothe its pain; That only by thy stern command The battle's lost, the soldier's slain. By day, by night--in joy or woe-- By fear oppressed, or hopes beguiled, From every danger, every foe, Oh, God! protect my wife and child! THE SOUTH IS UP. BY P. E. C.