Seventy-Six and Sixty-One.

By John W. Overall, of Louisiana.

Ye spirits of the glorious dead! Ye watchers in the sky! Who sought the patriot's crimson bed, With holy trust and high-- Come, lend your inspiration now, Come, fire each Southern son, Who nobly fights for freemen's rights, And shouts for sixty-one.

Come, teach them how, on hill on glade, Quick leaping from your side, The lightning flash of sabres made A red and flowing tide-- How well ye fought, how bravely fell, Beneath our burning sun; And let the lyre, in strains of fire, So speak of sixty-one.

There's many a grave in all the land, And many a crucifix, Which tells how that heroic band Stood firm in seventy-six-- Ye heroes of the deathless past, Your glorious race is run, But from your dust springs freemen's trust, And blows for sixty-one.

We build our altars where you lie, On many a verdant sod, With sabres pointing to the sky, And sanctified of God; The smoke shall rise from every pile, Till freedom's cause is won, And every mouth throughout the South, Shall shout for sixty-one!