Sized and adjusted for use here by John Osborne, Dickinson College, November 13, 2013.
"Old Abe," the Battle Eagle.
The ranks were full when they hurried away,
The drums rolling gaily, the bugles aplay,
A cloud that was dark with the anger of God,
When the westen winds blew, and the storm was abroad;
And over its front, in the threat'ning sky,
There hover'd the eagle of victory.
Chorus:
Hurrah! for our eagle! our bold battle eagle!
The terror of traitors and king of the sky.
Hurrah! for our eagle! our bold battle eagle!
The terror of traitors and king of the sky.
They come, but the ranks are shrunken and thin;
O! large be the welcome that gathers them in!
They come with their flags in the glad sunlight,
A cloud of peace that is feathry white;
And still o'er the standards they bear on high
There hovers the eagle of victory.
His nostrils have scented the sulphurous breath
Of the boiling caldron of battle and death;
His broad wings spread in the wavering fight,
And his screams rang out with a fierce delight,
When the ranks of the traitors were turned to fly,
Like the fabled trumpet of victory.
In every guise he has looked upon death,
In the battle's rude shock, in the pestilent breath,
On the long, hot march, when the souls set free
Saw Sherman go conquering down to the sea;
But he never has seen the standards fly
Of the mighty west, save in victory.
O! thus be it ever when traitors assail!
While the land owns a home, or the sea keeps a sail,
Our west, like her eagle, shall lift to the sun
Her swords that are legion, her soul that is one;
And swear by the God that reigneth on high,
In Liberty's quarrel to conquer or die!
