And they'd better hire John Mitchell with shillalah, club, and switchel,

Drive 'em down to Alabama, and leave 'em.

Then take off coats, boys, roll up sleeves;
Slavery is a hard foe to battle.

But the day is drawing nigh that Slavery must die,
And every one must do his part accordin';
Then let us all unite to give every man his right,
And we'll get our pay the other side of Jordan.

Then rouse up, ye freemen, the sword unsheath;
Freedom is the best road to travel, I believe.

CAMPAIGN SONG

Air-"Hail to the Chief."

FREEMEN, the day of your triumph is dawning,
Shake out the folds of your banner once more;
Join in the anthem that heralds the morning;
See! the long night of oppression is o'er.
Hark! from our native hills,

Comes there a shout that thrills

Liberty's temple from portal to dome,
Glory to God on high!

Union with Liberty,

Finds in the hearts of our people a home.

Burnish your armors like heroes in story,
Sound the loud tocsin that calls to the war,
Freedom enthroned in the land of her glory
Bids you march on by the light of her star.
Let the wild echo sweep

Back from each mountain steep.

Brave old Columbia joins in the fray,

While with united voice

Liberty's sons rejoice

In the proud triumph that waits them to-day.

Then shall our country's name shine through the ages,
Bravely redeemed by the men of her soil;
Then shall the birthplace of heroes and sages
Honor the brawny-armed servants of toil.
Rally, young hearts and brave,

Let your broad banner wave

Over the nation from inland to sea.

Hasten the coming time,

When every land and clime

Breaking their shackles shall march with the free.

R. M. N.

RIDDEN BY THE SLAVE POWER.

WRITTEN BY GEORGE W. PUTNAM.

Tune-"Benney Haven."

RIDDEN by the slave power,

Crushed beneath the chain,

Now is come our rising hour,

Lo! we're up again.

And voices from the mountain height,

Voices from the vale,

Say to Freedom's fearless host,
There's no such word as fail,
There's no such word as fail,
Say to Freedom's fearless host,
There's no such word as fail.

Ay! we're up to hurl the fiend
From off the tyrant throne;
To strike for man a mightier blow
Than earth has ever known;

To drag your code of whips and gyves
Up to the light of day,

And wash from our escutcheon's front

The bloody stain away,

The bloody stain away,

And wash from our escutcheon's front
The bloody stain away.

Free to speak the burning truth,
All fetterless the hand,
Never shall the Yankee's brow

Bear the cursed brand.

Send the gathering freemen's shout

Booming on the gale;

Omnipotence is for us,

There's no such word as fail,
There's no such word as fail,

Omnipotence is for us,

There's no such word as fail.

They're gathering on the mountain,
They're gathering on the plain,
And 'neath the tramp of Freedom's host
The broad earth shakes again.
And this their glorious rallying cry,
Whose firm hearts never quail :

God and the people! on for right,
There's no such word as fail,
There's no such word as fail,
God and the people! on for right,
There's no such word as fail.

I SPURN THE BRIBE.

WRITTEN BY ONE WHO COULD NOT BE BOUGHT.

Tune-"Mountains, Farewell."

THEY knew that I was poor,

And they thought that I was base,
And would readily endure

To be covered with disgrace.
They judged me of their tribe,
Who on dirty mammon dote;
So they offered me a bribe

For my vote, boys, my vote!
Oh, shame upon my BETTERS,
Who would my conscience buy!
But shall I wear their fetters?
Not I, indeed, not I.

My vote? it is not mine

To do with as I will-
To cast, like pearls to swine,
To these wallowers in ill;
It is my country's due,

And I'll give it as I can
To the honest and the true,
Like a man, boys, a man!

Did I swallow down the hook
That was bated by the base,

How could I dare to look

My children in the face?
Could I teach them the right way,
While I heard a voice within,

Reproach me night and day,

With my sin, boys, sin?

No! no! I'll hold my vote

As a treasure and a trust;
My dishonor none shall quote,

When I'm mingled with the dust.
And my children, when I'm gone,
Shall be strengthened by the thought,
That their father was not one

To be bought, boys, bought.

SONG FOR THE TIMES.

ON THE STATE OF THE UNION. BY JUDSON.

Tune-"Axes to Grind."

THE Slaveholders determined to rule or to ruin,
So they set all the dough in Congress a brewin',
They wanted more country their negroes to till,
So they got the Little Giant to draw up a bill.

The Slaveocrats blew a hot piping blast,

Then hoisted the pirate flag high on the mast,

They cracked the slave-whip and held up the brander, Then down crouched the North with the great Michigan

der.

In that hot fiery furnace most gloriously shone

A few noble worthies who were blessed with back-bone; They trusted in God, like the Prophets of old,

And the South couldn't buy them with office or gold.

The Southerners and Doughfaces united as one,
The bill was Pierced through, the fatal deed done;
The Bull roared in triumph-the edict went forth,
From that time forever there should be no more North.