Oh, the war, the war, _Oh_, the war, the war, OH, the war-- With pools of gory, dripping grime, And ghastly, beastly, horrible rime, The soldier bloody, stiff and stark-- The cannon thunders, hark! hark! Columbia, how's the war? II. Oh, the blood, the blood, _Oh_, the blood, the blood, OH, the blood-- Curdling, welling, staining the ground, Bubbling from wounds with sick'ning sound; The life gone out in a wind of swords,-- Murderers leagued in hordes! hordes! Columbia, how's the blood? III. Oh, the roar, the roar, _Oh_, the roar, the roar, OH, the roar-- Thousands grappling, tearing to death, Fever, madness and hell in a breath; Rage, despair, oath and scream-- Rivers crimson stream! stream! Columbia, how's the roar? IV. Oh, the blaze, the blaze, _Oh_, the blaze, the blaze. OH, the blaze, Homes in flames, lighting the storm, Torches for death in a brother's form; Ruin, ravage, ashes and smoke,-- Hopes and heart-strings broke! broke! Columbia, how's the blaze? V. Oh, the groan, the groan, _Oh_, the groan, the groan, OH, the groan-- Mothers sonless, homeless and old, Sisters brotherless, lone and cold, Children starving, wailing for bread,-- Fathers and brothers dead! dead! Columbia, how's the groan? VI. Oh, the woe, the woe, _Oh_, the woe, the woe, OH, the woe, Cities famishing, villages still, Blood in the valley and fire on the hill; Horror, havoc, curses and tears,-- Dark desolation for years! years! Columbia, how's the woe? VII. Oh, the end, the end, _Oh_, the end, the end, OH, the end, Griefs and graves at every hearth, Heaven offended, outraged Earth: Prayers for vengeance from ev'ry tomb-- Borne to the living a doom! doom! Columbia, how's the end? Here Bonbon, the French chap, struck in, and says he: "Oh, the ass, the ass, _Oh_, the ass, the ass, OH, the ass----" "Silence, Napoleon!" says the British chap, "and r-r-remember Waterloo! The next metrical gem," says he, "illustrates the deeper profundity of British thought, and conveys a moral lesson of the deepest significance to babes and sucklings. Hem!"-- COLUMBIA'S AGONY. BY MARTIN FARQUHAR TUP----R. I hold it good--as who shall hold it bad? To lave Columbia in the boiling tears I shed for Freedom when my soul is sad, And having shed proceed to shed again: For _human sadness sad to all appears_, And tears men sometimes shed are shed by men. The normal nation lives until it dies, As men may die when they have ceased to live; But when abnormal, by a foe's surprise, It may not reach its first-appointed goal; For _what we have not is not ours to give_, And if we miss it all we miss the whole.