CAPTURE OF SALLY DAVIS.

Written by JOHN P. LARKIN.

AIR.-Kingdom Coming.

O Ladies, have you seen Jeff Davis?
He changed his name of late;
He ran away, the other day,
From Old Virginia State.

He heard the Yankee soldiers coming,
While sitting in his PEW;

He cried aloud, with all his strength:
O Lord! what shall I do?.

Chorus.-Jeff Davis says: Now don't!

I've changed my name to Sal:
You will not hurt me, now, I'm sure;
For, I wear a Balmoral!

He seized his gold, as a miser would,
And started out of town,

For fear the Yankees should him take
His wife lent him her gown,

To make him unknown still more,
He wore her hoops and balmoral.
And then, to make it all complete,
He changed his name to Sal!

Now, Jeff was caught in his disguise,
Likewise with all his spoil,

For just one little accident:

His boots, were not the style.

He cursed, and swore, and drew his knife,
And brandished it so high,

Yet, he was not man enough
On the battle-field to die!

Oh! shame on Jeff to disguise himself,
In a cause so good and just!
Where is the man, four years ago,
In God did place his trust?
We find him at his Country's Bar,
To answer for his crime.

So, let his fate be a warning to all
Young men in future time!

TRAMP! TRAMP! TRAMP!

THE PRISONER'S HOPE.

In the prison-cell I sit,

Thinking, Mother dear, of you,

And our bright and happy home, so far away!
And the tears they fill my eyes,

Spite of all that I can do,

Tho' I try to cheer my comrades, and be gay.
Tramp, tramp, tramp! the boys are marching,
Cheer up! comrades, they will come,

And, beneath the Starry Flag,

We shall breathe the air, again,

Of the Free-land, in our own beloved home.
Chorus. Tramp, tramp, &c.

In the battle-front we stood,

When their fiercest charge they made,
And they swept us off, a hundred men or more;
But, before we reach'd their lines,

They were beaten back dismayed,

And we heard the cry of Vict'ry, o'er and o'er.
Tramp, tramp, tramp! &c.

So, within the prison-cell,

We are waiting for the day

That shall come to open wide the iron door;
And the hollow eye grows bright,

And the poor heart almost gay,

As we think of seeing home and friends, once more. Tramp, tramp, tramp! &c.)

COMING HOME.

Hark! the boys are coming!
Don't you hear them tramp?

Here they come, with Banners stained and tern;
See their cheerful faces,

As they leave the camp

Marching on their happy journey home.

Chorus.-Coming home, coming home,
Don't you hear the drum ?

Yes, they're coming home, hurrah! hurrah!
The cruel war is over,

The noble work is done;

They're coming, they are coming from the war.

Hearts that seemed as breaking,

Throb with joy to-day;

Eyes are bright, that long were dimmed with tears:
Hopes that seemed as vanished,

Now are light and gay:

Doubting ones have banished all their fears.
Chorus.

Boys, don't keep us waiting,
Quickly march along!

Loving ones are watching at the door,

Listening for footsteps,

Since the early morn;

Come, and live in peace for evermore!
Chorus.

Now the war is over,

May we soon forget

Troubles that have passed, and sorrows gone;
Hoping that the Star

Of Peace will never set,
Praying for the Nation newly born!

Chorus.

PADDY IS THE BOY.

It's some years ago, I very well know,
Since I first saw daylight with my two blessed eyes;
I was born, so they say, when my Dad was away,
On St. Patrick's day in the morning.

How they nursed me with joy, said what a fine boy
Put a stick in my fist, by the way of a toy :

Faith! there's no mistake, they admired my make,
And said, some day I'd give the girls a warming.
Chorus. For, Paddy is the boy that's fond of a glass!
Paddy is the boy that's fond of a lass!
Dear Old Dublin is the place for me,

And Donnybrook is the place to go for a spree!

At a wake or a fair, poor Paddy is there;
He will fight foe or friend, if they do him offend ;
Let the piper strike up-he will rise from his cup,
With a smile on his face adorning ;

With his little Colleen, he'll dance on the green;
Sure, an Irishman, there, in his glory was seen;
Play a reel or a jig, he don't care a fig;

But he'll dance till daylight in the morning.
Chorus.

Now, boys, do you mind-you never will find
Such a dear little place as the Emerald Isle;
Long, long may it stand; and good luck to the land
That dear Old St. Patrick was born in!

May the girls, young and old, may the boys, brave and bold,
Unite heart and hand, to protect the dear Isle!
And morn, noon, and night, may joy and delight

Shine on them, like a fine summer's morning!
Chorus.

WHAT ARE THE WILD WAVES SAYING?

Paul What are the wild waves saying,

Sister, the whole day long;

That ever amid our playing,

I hear but their lone low song!

Not by the sea side only

There it sounds loud and free-
But at night, when 'tis dark and lonely,
In dreams it is still with me.

Florence-Brother, I hear no singing!

'Tis but the rolling wave, Ever its lone course winging

Over some ocean cave;'Tis but the noise of water

Dashing against the shore,

And the wind from some bleaker quarter
Mingling with its roar.

Both-No, no, it is something greater,

That speaks to the heart alone
The voice of the great Creator
Dwells in that mighty tone.

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CAMP, GALS.

Air-Kingdom Coming..

O! don't you see the camp girls running,
With their baskets in their hands?

They are going to camp, to cheat or swindle
Some poor soldier man.

When Colonel Wagner sees them coming,
With a mournful smile he stands;
For well he knows their object is nothing,
But to rob some soldier man.

Chorus.

Soldiers laugh, ha! ha!

The girls they laugh hey hey!

What will they do when the snow is falling,
And when the camp is gone away.

Some soldiers there are from Kentucky,
And think they are dreadful fast;

They are sworn to have the best of living,
As long as the bounty lasts.

They will pay five dollars for a porgie fish,
Some biscuits, eggs, and ham,

And the girls are sworn to never carry change,
For the foolish contrabands.

Chorus. Soldiers laugh, ha! ha!

Some go that's married, some that's single,

With a basket for a sham,

They swear by faith that they never had a lover,
Till they saw some soldier man.

Sometimes they marry for to get his bounty,

Or to do the best they can,

With his watch and money they skedaddle,
And laugh at the soldier man.

Chorus. Soldiers laugh, ha! ha!

If you should come home sick or wounded,
You will meet them on the street,

All dressed to death in the highest of fashion,
Looking very neat.

If they find out you have got no money,"
They'll have no time to stand,

They tell you quick you have got no bounty,

e. You are a wounded soldier man.

Chorus. Soldiers laugh, ha! ha!

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