Thou hast gone forth, my darling one, To battle with the brave, To strike in Freedom's sacred cause, Or win an early grave; With vet'rans grim, and stalwart men, Thy pathway lieth now, Though fifteen summers scarce have shed Their blossoms on thy brow. My babe in years, my warrior boy! O! if a mother's tears Could call thee back to be my joy, And still these anxious fears, I'd dash the traitor drops away, That would unnerve thy hand, Now raised to strike in Freedom's cause, For thy dear native land. [Illustration: "Come back to me my darling son, And light my life again."] God speed thee on thy course, my boy, Where'er thy pathway lie, And guard thee when the leaden hail, Shall thick around thee fly; But when our sacred cause is won, And peace again shall reign, Come back to me, my darling son, And light my life again. THE REBEL BAND. Old Eve she did the apple eat, Old Eve she did the apple eat, Old Eve she did the apple eat, And smacked her lips and called it sweet. CHORUS.--Do you belong to the rebel band, Fighting for your home. There was a time, the poets say, There was a time, the poets say, There was a time, the poets say, When this world was washed away. CHORUS. How old Noah built him an ark, How old Noah built him an ark, How old Noah built him an ark, Of gopher wood and hickory bark. CHORUS. The ark rested on Mount Ararat, The ark rested on Mount Ararat, The ark rested on Mount Ararat, A mile and a half from Manassas' Gap. CHORUS. The animals came in two by two, The animals came in two by two, The animals came in two by two, The camamile and the kangaroo. CHORUS. Now old Noah got very drunk, Now old Noah got very drunk, Now old Noah got very drunk, And old Ham pulled him out of his bunk. CHORUS. Old Noah got mad as he could be, Old Noah got mad as he could be, Old Noah got mad as he could be, And sent old Ham to Afrikee. CHORUS. THE SOUTHERN SOLDIER BOY. Words by FATHER RYAN. Music by W. LUDDEN. Young as the youngest who donned the gray, True as the truest who wore it, Brave as the bravest he marched away, (Hot tears on the cheeks of his mother lay); Triumphant waved our flag one day, He fell in the front before it. CHORUS.--A grave in the wood with the grass o'ergrown, A grave in the heart of his mother, His clay in the one, lifeless and lone, But his memory lives in the other.