SOUTHERN SONG OF FREEDOM. _Air--"The Minstrel's Return."_ A nation has sprung into life Beneath the bright Cross of the South; And now a loud call to the strife Rings out from the shrill bugle's mouth. They gather from morass and mountain, They gather from prairie and mart, To drink, at young Liberty's fountain, The Nectar that kindles the heart. CHORUS--Then, hail to the land of the pine! The home of the noble and free; A palmetto wreath we'll entwine Round the altar of young Liberty! Our flag, with its cluster of stars, Firm fixed in a field of pure blue, All shining through red and white bars, Now gallantly flutters in view. The stalwart and brave round it rally, They press to their lips every fold, While the hymn swells from hill and from valley, "Be God with our Volunteers bold." CHORUS. Th' invaders rush down from the North, Our borders are black with their hordes; Like wolves for their victims they flock, While whetting their knives and their swords. Their watchword is "Booty and Beauty," Their aim is to steal as they go; But, Southrons, act up to your duty, And lay the foul miscreants low. CHORUS. The God of our fathers looks down And blesses the cause of the just; His smile will the patriot crown Who tramples his chains in the dust. March, March, Southrons! Shoulder to shoulder, One heart-throb, one shout for the cause; Remember--the world's a beholder, And your bayonets are fixed at your doors! CHORUS. J. J. H. "CALL ALL! CALL ALL!" By "GEORGIA." Whoop! the Doodles have broken loose, Roaring round like the very deuce; Lice of Egypt, a hungry pack,-- After 'em, boys, and drive 'em back. Bull dog, terrier, cur, and fice, Back to the beggarly land of ice, Worry 'em, bite 'em, scratch and tear Everybody and everywhere. Old Kentucky is caved from under, Tennessee is split asunder, Alabama awaits attack, And Georgia bristles up her back. Old John Brown is dead and gone! Still his spirit is marching on,-- Lantern-jawed, and legs, my boys, Long as an ape's from Illinois. Want a weapon? Gather a brick, Club or cudgel, or stone or stick; Anything with a blade or butt, Anything that can cleave or cut. Anything heavy, or hard, or keen! Any sort of a slaying machine! Anything with a willing mind, And the steady arm of a man behind. Want a weapon? Why, capture one! Every Doodle has got a gun, Belt, and bayonet, bright and new; Kill a Doodle, and capture _two_! Shoulder to shoulder, son and sire! All, call! all to the feast of fire! Mother and maiden, and child and slave, A common triumph or a single grave. _Rockingham (Va.) Register._ ANOTHER YANKEE DOODLE.