CHAPTER XVI CAMPAIGN POETRY [Illinois State Journal, Springfield, October 27, 1858] The Republicans of Chicago held a tremendous meeting last Saturday night, on which occasion they were addressed by John Wentworth. Metropolitan Hall was crowded to its utmost capacity, there being nearly 4000 present in the hall. One of the notable features of this meeting was the interest exhibited by the Germans and Scandinavians, who were out in full force. Frank Lombard was on hand, with some stirring songs of which we subjoin a sample: OLD DAN TUCKER We hear a cry increasing still, Like light it springs from hill to hill From Pennsylvania's State it leaps, Get out the way Stephen Douglas! Lincoln is the man we want to serve us! The Hoosier State first caught the cry, Get out the way, etc. Cheer up, for victory's on its way, Get out the way, etc. Then, Freemen, rally, one and all, Free Speech, Free Press, Free Soil want we, Get out the way, etc. [Daily Herald, Quincy, Ill., November 13, 1858] [From the Philadelphia Press] "A DOUGLAS TO THE FRAY" BY JOHN BROUGHAM When Saxon raid, With brand and blade, And gave the land, The welcome shout, From mountain and from brae; "God and our right! Stand firm and fight! A Douglas to the fray!" Oh! never was Linked with that rallying cry, To friends a spell, To foes a knell, When e'er it pierced the sky; And as the shout Rang fiercely out, Fate owned its conquering sway; "Stand firm and fight For truth and right! On story's page, In every age, In glory's round May still be found Enrolled, that deathless name. Speed as of old, The chieftain bold Who bears it at this day; "Stand firm and fight A Douglas to the fray!" [Galesburg (Ill.) Democrat, October 27, 1858] Air-"The Pauper's Funeral." Here's a grim one horse hearse, in a jolly round trot, The road it is rough, and the hearse has no springs, He's a dead politician whom nobody owns. Oh! where are the mourners? Alas! there are none; Rattle, etc. What a jolting, and creaking, and plashing, and din— The whip, how it cracks, and the wheels, how they spin, How the dirt, right and left, o'er the fences is hurl'dThe "Giant" now makes his last noise in the world. Rattle, etc. Poor Giant defunct! makes his nearest approach Rattle, etc. But a truce to this strain-for my soul it is sad A second hearse comes, and within it we see Rattle, etc. Now "Georgy" and "Stephen" together have gone, We will say in conclusion, since "Georgy" is dead, The disease that he died of, we call the "Big Head." Rattle their bones over the stones, Such poor, rotten carcasses God never owns. ' Adams. [Chicago Times, October 27, 1858] A DOUGLAS SONG We won't vote for Lincoln, nor one of his band, Our Douglas is fearless-he cares for no man, [For the Galesburg Democrat] RALLY SONG BY R. F. FLINT From where the lordly Michigan From where old Mississippi Sweeps downward to the sea, From the distant groves of Stephenson, From all the plains between them, The Iron Steed bursts airward, With Freedom in its scream. The mighty lakes reach down and clasp |