Sweet Genevieve by Stephen Foster, 1869 (pg. 11):
O, Genevieve, I’d give the world to live again the lovely past! The rose of youth was dew-impearled, but now it withers in the blast. I see thy face in every dream, my waking thoughts are full of thee, thy glance is in the starry beam that falls along the summer sea.
Chorus: O, Genevieve, sweet Genevieve, the days may come, the days may go, but still the hands of memory weave, the blissful dreams of long ago.
Fair Genevieve, my early love, the years but make thee dearer far! My heart shall, never, never rove, thou art my only guiding star. For me the past has no regret, whate’er the years may bring to me, I bless the hour when first we met, the hour that gave me love and thee!
Old Rosin the Beau (pg. 11): See Book 3 Songs
Pop! goes the Weasel – unknown, 1850s (pg. 11):
All around the cobbler’s bench, The monkey chased the weasel. The monkey thought ’twas all in fun, Pop! goes the weasel.
A penny for a spool of thread, a penny for a needle—That’s the way the money goes, Pop! goes the weasel.
Buffalo Gals (pg. 11): See Book 1 Songs
Lilly Dale (pg. 11): See Book 4 Songs
Out of Work by Septimus Winner (pg. 18):
Out of work without a penny, out of heart without a friend, seeking one among the many with a helping hand to lend. I have trod the country over, I have sought the city through; Drive me not away in anger, for there’s nothing now to do.
Chorus: Out of work without a penny, pleading help before thy door, without friends among the many, look with pity on the poor.
I have babes that watch my coming, children crying now for bread; oh, then, chide me not for roaming, they are waiting to be fed. In an attic cold and dreary, they are weeping side by side, for their sake I grow not weary, pray, then, help me to provide.
Must I look in vain for pity from the hearts on which I call? Must I starve in this great city, where there’s food enough for all? Must I wander, sad and lonely, like an outcast, day by day? Give me but thy favor only; Drive me not, my friends, away.
My Country ‘Tis of Thee by Samuel Francis Smith, 1831 (pg. 55 and 352):
- My country, ’tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing; Land where my fathers died, Land of the pilgrims’ pride, From ev’ry mountainside, Let freedom ring!
- My native country, thee, Land of the noble free, Thy name I love; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills, Like that above.
- Let music swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees, Sweet freedom’s song; Let mortal tongues awake; Let all that breathe partake; Let rocks their silence break, The sound prolong.
- Our fathers’ God to Thee, Author of liberty, To Thee we sing. Long may our land be bright, With freedom’s holy light, Protect us by Thy might, Great God our King.
Song of the Kansas Emigrant (pg. 71): See Book 3 Songs
Just Before the Battle, Mother by George F. Root, 1864 (pg. 94):
Just before the battle, mother,
I am thinking most of you,
While upon the field we’re watching
With the enemy in view.
Comrades brave are ’round me lying,
Filled with thoughts of home and God
For well they know that on the morrow,
Some will sleep beneath the sod.
CHORUS:
Farewell, mother, you may never
Press me to your heart again,
But, oh, you’ll not forget me, mother,
If I’m numbered with the slain.
Oh, I long to see you, mother,
And the loving ones at home,
But I’ll never leave our banner,
Till in honor I can come.
Tell the traitors all around you
That their cruel words we know,
In every battle kill our soldiers
By the help they give the foe.
Hark! I hear the bugles sounding,
‘Tis the signal for the fight,
Now, may God protect us, mother,
As He ever does the right.
Hear the “Battle-Cry of Freedom,”
How it swells upon the air,
Oh, yes, we’ll rally ’round the standard,
Or we’ll perish nobly there.
Oh Shenandoah (pg. 125):
Far away, you rollin’ river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you
Away, I’m bound away
Across the wide Missouri.
Far away, you rollin’ river
Indians camp along her border
Away, I’m bound away
Across the wide Missouri.
Far away, you rollin’ river
With notions his canoe was laden
Away, I’m bound away
Across the wide Missouri.
Far away, you rollin’ river
For her I’d cross the stormy water
Away, I’m bound away
Across the wide Missouri.
I’m bound to leave you,
Far away, you rollin’ river
Oh Shenandoah, I’ll not deceive you
Away, I’m bound away
Across the wide Missouri.
Oh! the soldiers here both far and near, They did get quite excited; When from their brethren of the South, to war they were invited. But it was to be, it is to be, it can’t by nothing shorter, Oh! and if they call upon dis child, I’ze bound to die a martyr,
Chorus: For I belong to the fire Zoozoos, and don’t you think I oughter; And I’m gwine down to Washington to fight for Abraham’s Daughter.
I am tired of a city life and I will join the Zoo-zoos, I’m gwine to try and make a hit down ‘mong the southern foo-foos; But if perchance I should get hit, I’ll show them I’m a tartar; We are bound to save our Union yet, ’tis all that we are arter.
There is one thing more that I would state, before I close my ditty, ‘Tis all about the volunteers that’s left our good old city. They have gone to fight, for the Stars and Stripes— our Union, now or never! We will give three cheers for the volunteers, and Washington forever.
There’s a Good Time Coming, Boys (pg. 150): See Book 1 Songs
Barbara Allen – Scottish traditional (pg. 185):
In Scarlet town where I was born
There was a fair maid dwelling
And every youth cried well aday
For her name was Barbara Allen
‘Twas in the merry month of May
The green buds they were swelling
Sweet William on his deathbed lay
For love of Barbara Allen
He sent a servant to the town
To the place she was dwelling
Saying master bids you come to him
If your name be Barbara Allen
Slowly, slowly she got up
And slowly she came nigh him
But all she said, as she past his bed,
Was, “Young man I think you’re dying.”
As she was walking o’er the fields
She heard the death bell knelling
And every stroke it seemed to say
Hardhearted Barbara Allen
Oh mother mother make my bed
Make it long and make it narrow
Sweet William died for me today
I’ll die for him tomorrow
They buried her in the old churchyard
They buried him in the choir
And from his grave grew a red red rose
From her grave a briar
They grew and grew to the steeple top
Till they could grow no higher
And there they twined in a true love’s knot
For all true lovers to admire.
We Are Coming from the Cottonfields by J.C. Wallace (pg. 191):
We are coming from the cotton fields, We’re coming from afar; We have left the plow, the hoe and ax And are going to the war; We have left old plantation seat, The sugar and the cane, Where we work’d and toil’d with weary feet. In sun and wind and rain.
Chorus: Then come along my boys, Oh! come, come along, Then come along my brothers, Oh come, come along. We are coming from the cotton fields. We’re coming from a far, We have left the plow the hoe and ax, And we are going to war.
We have digg’d our last pertater here In old Carliner State, And we’ll leave these sandy diggins now For the true Confederate; We have left the frogs within the slough To sing alone and hop In the swamp lands and the meadows where We reap’d old Massa’s crop.
We will leave our chains behind us, boys, The prison, and the rack; And we’ll hide beneath a soldier’s coat. The scars upon upon our backs; And we’ll teach the world a lesson soon. If taken by the hand, How the night shall come before tis noon, Upon old Pharoah’s land.
By the heavy chains that bound our hands Thro’ centuries of wrong, We have learn’d the hard bought lesson well, How to suffer and be strong; And we only ask the power to show, What Freedom does for man; And we’ll give sign to friend and foe, As none beside us can.
The Star-Spangled Banner (pg. 210): See Book 4 Songs
Ah! May the Red Rose Live Alway by Stephen Foster, 1850 (pg. 316):
Ah! may the red rose live alway,
To smile upon earth and sky!
Why should the beautiful ever weep?
Why should the beautiful die?
Lending a charm to ev’ry ray
That falls on her cheeks of light,
Giving the zephyr kiss for kiss,
And nursing the dewdrop bright —
Ah! may the red rose live alway,
To smile upon earth and sky!
Why should the beautiful ever weep?
Why should the beautiful die?
Long may the daisies dance the field,
Frolicking far and near!
Why should the innocent hide their heads?
Why should the innocent fear?
Spreading their petals in mute delight
When morn in its radiance breaks,
Keeping a floral festival
Till the night-loving primrose wakes —
Long may the daisies dance the field,
Frolicking far and near!
Why should the innocent hide their heads?
Why should the innocent fear?
Lulled be the dirge in the cypress bough,
That tells of departed flowers!
Ah! that the butterfly’s gilded wing
Fluttered in evergreen bowers!
Sad is my heart for the blighted plants —
Its pleasures are aye as brief —
They bloom at the young year’s joyful call,
And fade with the autumn leaf:
Ah! may the red rose live alway,
To smile upon earth and sky!
Why should the beautiful ever weep?
Why should the beautiful die?
Jingle Bells (pg. 326): See Book 4 Songs