Then said Lincoln unto Pope, "You can make the trip, I hope;" "I will save the universal Yankee nation, To make sure of no defeat, I'll leave no lines of retreat, And issue a famous proclamation." But that same dreaded Jackson, this fellow laid his whacks on, And made him by compulsion, a seceder.[13] And Pope took rapid flight from Manassas' second fight, 'Twas his very last appearance as a leader. CHORUS.--Then pull off your coat and roll up your sleeve, For Stonewall is a hard road to travel, Pope did his very best, but was evidently sold, For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I'm told! Last of all the _brave_ Burnside, with his pontoon bridge, tried A road no one had thought of before him, With two hundred thousand men for the Rebel slaughter pen, And the blessed Union flag waving o'er him, But he met a fire like hell, of canister and shell, That mowed his men down with great slaughter, 'Twas a shocking sight to view, that second Waterloo, And the river ran with more blood than water. CHORUS.--Then pull off your coat and roll up your sleeve, Rappahannock is a hard road to travel, Burnside got in a trap, which caused him for to grieve, For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I believe! We are very much perplexed to know who is the next To command the new Richmond expedition, For the Capital _must blaze_, and that in ninety days, And Jeff and his men be sent to perdition. We'll take the cursed town, and then we'll burn it down, And plunder and hang each cursed rebel; Yet the contraband was right when he told us they would fight, "Oh! yes, massa, they fight like the devil." CHORUS.--Then pull off your coat and roll up your sleeve, For Richmond is a hard road to travel; Then pull off your coat and roll up your sleeve, For Richmond is a hard road to travel, I believe! THE SOUTHRON'S WATCHWORD. In Imitation of an English Song of the Crimean War. By M. F. BIGNEY, 1861. Music from S. GLOVER. What shall the Southron's watchword be, Fighting for us on land and sea? Bearing our flag o'er the billow's foam, Shedding his blood for his Southern home? To bleed and conquer he's bravely gone; Freedom and glory still urge him on. Then shall the Southron's watchword be, "The grave of the hero or victory!" What shall the Southron's watchword be, Bearing the banner that proves him free? Bravely he dashes amid the strife, For home and country, for child and wife; His aims are bright and his hopes are high; His brave resolve is to do or die; Then shall the Southron's watchword be, "The grave of the hero or victory!"