THE SOARIN' O' THE EAGLE.

Till we sent 'em Yankee manners
In a dozen ton of shot.

Our ears was full o' cotton,
And our legs was all a-reel;
But the Yankee grit was in us,

And our guns was full o' steel;
And we kept the Greasers hoppin'
With the shells that we was droppin'
Till we filled 'em full o' blazin' hell
From reekin' deck to keel.

Oh, we bored 'em full o' trouble
As a sieve is full o' holes;
And we chucked 'em under water

Like a nest o' drownded moles.
With the blessin' o' Saint Mary
And the Yankee military —
Why, we give 'em twenty volleys
For the restin' o' their souls.

They fought us square and honest,
And they spoiled our purty shine;
And they went down game as chickens
When we sunk 'em in the brine;

For while the eagle's screamin',

And the stars and stripe's a-streamin',

Why, we hain't the boys to say it, -
That they didn't toe the line.

Oh, they thought they'd have a bull-fight
With your Uncle Sammy's crew;
And they figgered out that dodgin'

Was the proper thing to do.
But they missed their calculation
In a-sizin' up the nation, —

Cause there hain't no room fer Spaniards

When the eagle soars the blue.

-Marion Franklin Ham.

THE CALL TO THE COLORS.

The Call to the Colors.

"ARE you ready, O Virginia,

Alabama, Tennessee?

People of the Southland, answer! For the land hath need of thee." "Here!" from sandy Rio Grande,

Where the Texan horsemen ride; "Here!" the hunters of Kentucky Hail from Chatterawha's side; Every toiler in the cotton,

Every rugged mountaineer, Velvet-voiced and iron-handed,

Lifts his head to answer, "Here! Some remain who charged with Pickett, Some survive who followed Lee;

They shall lead their sons to battle
For the flag, if need there be."

"Are you ready, California,

Arizona, Idaho?

'Come, oh, come, unto the colors!'

Heard you not the bugle blow?”

Falls a hush in San Francisco

In the busy hives of trade;

In the vineyards of Sonoma

Fall the pruning knife and spade;

In the mines of Colorado

Pick and drill are thrown aside; Idly in Seattle harbor

Swing the merchants to the tide ; And a million mighty voices

Throb responsive like a drum, Rolling from the rough Sierras,

"You have called us, and we come."

O'er Missouri sounds the challengeO'er the great lakes and the plain; "Are you ready, Minnesota?

Are you ready, men of Maine?"
From the woods of Ontonagon,
From the farms of Illinois,
From the looms of Massachusetts,
"We are ready, man and boy."
Axemen free, of Androscoggin,

Clerks who trudge the cities' paves,
Gloucester men who drag their plunder
From the sullen, hungry waves,
Big-boned Swede and large-limbed

German,

Celt and Saxon swell the call,

THE CALL TO THE COLORS.

And the Adirondacks echo:

"We are ready, one and all."

Truce to feud and peace to faction!
All forgot is party zeal
When the war-ships clear for action,
When the blue battalions wheel.
Europe boasts her standing armies,
Serfs who blindly fight by trade;
We have seven million soldiers,
And a soul guides every blade.
Laborers with arm and mattock,
Laborers with brain and pen,
Railroad prince and railroad brakeman
Build our line of fighting men.
Flag of righteous wars! close mustered
Gleam the bayonets, row on row,
Where thy stars are sternly clustered,
With their daggers towards the foe.

—Arthur Guiterman.