Yarborough, too, with chalky cheek, was walking down the road-- The Yankees had to some extent relieved him of his load; His overcoat he had pulled off, and in his shirt he stood, In woeful plight, he was a sight,--his face contain'd no blood. Then came the lively Lilly, with teeth hard set in wrath, To think that some had pass'd him by, but pick'd him up at last! Then Burnes came, and Maynard, then Graham and Jim Baugh-- The gallant Bone was found alone, and bro't back from afar. But of the handsome Parton I must not fail to tell; His graceful way of riding you all remember well; But to-day the fates concluded to stop his wild career, So from his horse was jolted by a musket from the rear. The gallant Hill, and dashing Dees, were spurring for dear life, When a Yankee rode with perfect ease upon them with a knife; "Surrender, now, my pretty pair; and do it quickly too, Stop at once and turn your mare, or I will run you through." They stopp'd at once, and faced about and to the rear did start; And back they came, with legs quite lame, with faint and sinking heart: And there they saw a crowd who were gobbled up that day-- They were the twain that made seventeen, and we were marched away. ALABAMA. Words by LAURA LORRIMER. Music by J. W. GROSCHEL. Over vale and over mountain Pealing forth in triumph strong, Comes a lofty swell of music, Alabama's greeting song. In the new-born arch of glory, So, she burns, the central star, Never shame shall blight its grandeur, Never cloud its radiance mar. CHORUS.--Alabama, Alabama, Listen, Southrons, to the strain, Alabama, Alabama, Shout the rallying cry again. As the gulf waves rushing shoreward, Break in music echoes grand, Alabama sends this greeting, Proudly to her sister band. This her ultimatum, burning, In each heart of Southern flame, Peace, if gained not by dishonor, But far better war than shame. CHORUS. Let the "Northern Lion" couchant, On his bleak and froze plain, Lift his shaggy front in wonder, And defiant shake his mane. Sunward soars the mighty eagle, And where blossom brighter bowers, Than amid the green savannahs Of this sunny land of ours. CHORUS. And her sons will rise in legions, Bleed and die at her behest, Ere a hostile Northern footstep Trample, conqueror, on her breast. This the faith she plights her sisters, In this glorious Southern band, Side by side she will be with them, Heart with heart, and hand to hand. CHORUS. IMOGEN. By MAJ.-GEN. J. B. MAGRUDER. Wake! dearest, wake! 'tis thy lover who calls, Imogen; List! dearest, list! the dew gently falls, Imogen; Arise to thy lattice, the moon is asleep, The bright stars above us their bright vigils keep.