THE YANKEE VOLUNTEERS.

Ye Yankee Volunteers!

It makes my bosom bleed

When I your story read,

Though oft‘ tis told one.

So — in both hemispheres

The women are untrue,

And cruel in the New,

As in the Old one!

What — in this company

Of sixty sons of Mars,

Who march‘ neath Stripes and Stars,

With fife and horn,

Nine-tenths of all we see

Along the warlike line

Had but one cause to join

This Hope Forlorn?

Deserters from the realm

Where tyrant Venus reigns,

You slipp'd her wicked chains,

Fled and out-ran her.

And now, with sword and helm,

Together banded are

Beneath the Stripe and Star

Embroider'd banner!

And is it so with all

The warriors ranged in line,

With lace bedizen'd fine

And swords gold-hilted —

Yon lusty corporal,

Yon color-man who gripes

The flag of Stars and Stripes —

Has each been jilted?

Come, each man of this line,

The privates strong and tall,

“The pioneers and all,”

The fifer nimble —

Lieutenant and Ensign,

Captain with epaulets,

And Blacky there, who beats

The clanging cymbal —

O cymbal-beating black,

Tell us, as thou canst feel,

Was it some Lucy Neal

Who caused thy ruin?

O nimble fifing Jack,

And drummer making din

So deftly on the skin,

With thy rat-tattooing —

Confess, ye volunteers,

Lieutenant and Ensign,

And Captain of the line,

As bold as Roman —

Confess, ye grenadiers,

However strong and tall,

The Conqueror of you all

Is Woman, Woman!

No corselet is so proof

But through it from her bow

The shafts that she can throw

Will pierce and rankle.

No champion e'er so tough,

But's in the struggle thrown,

And tripp'd and trodden down

By her slim ankle.

Thus always it was ruled:

And when a woman smiled,

The strong man was a child,

The sage a noodle.

Alcides was befool'd,

And silly Samson shorn,

Long, long ere you were horn,

Poor Yankee Doodle!