War of Words

The presidential election of 1864 pitted Gen. George B. McClellan against the incumbent Abraham Lincoln. Although Lincoln ultimately prevailed (gaining 212 electoral votes to McClellan's 21), it is evident that he did not dominate all facets of the campaign. One interesting campaign tactic was the use of songs and poetry, often satirical, to state a candidate's views or point out an opponent's weaknesses. Judging from the sample below "Little Mac" was the clear winner of the war of words, if not the actual election.

Good, honest, Uncle Abraham,
A boon we have to crave,
‘Tis to send us back McClellan,
For he’s both true and brave.

He’s one of Freedom’s noble sons,
He’s faithful, firm and true,
Ne’er beat a heart more loyal
Within a suit of blue.

‘Tis true we have some loyal men,
There’s Burnside, Meade and Grant,
But I tell you, Abraham Lincoln,
‘Tis McClellan that we want.

We’ll march with him, we’ll fight with him,
In storms of snow or rain,
If you’ll only send our Little Mac
To lead us back again.

And when upon the battlefield,
And bravely in the fight,
Our courage ne’er would fail us,
When he was in our sight.

We’d hike away to Richmond,
With hearts both light and gay,
If we only had McClellan
To cheer us on the way.

Arouse! Fellow freemen, respond to the call.
                And rescue our land from political slavery!
From “Straimonium” swindlers and rail-splitters tall.
                From “wide awake” noodles and “higher law” knavery.
Come route the vile host, who now “rule the roost”;
                And have wrought desolation from centre to coast,
Then all to the rescue our country to save,
                From political panders and anarchy’s grave.

Let war and peace democrats quit their old feuds,
                And nobly to battle go shoulder to shoulder,
If we elect honest men with some brains in their heads,
                Peace will follow before we are many months older;
                Then patriots all. Of whatever hue,
                Old whigs and repentant republicans too,
                Go into harness and work with a will,
                And give abolition a quietus pill.

The ladies, “God bless them,” are all on our side,
                Our wives and our daughters, our sisters and mothers;
Then cheered by their smiles, we’ll move on with the tide,
                And elect the brave man we prefer to all others;
                With “Mac” in the van, we’ll all as one man,
                Set our heels on the neck of the radical clan.
                For we’re all to the rescue our country to save
                From black abolition and ruin’s foul wave.

What notes do we hear, fleeting, thick through the air;
                From mountaintop, hillside and valley they’re swelling,
The chorus grows louder, the accents more clear;
                And the echo reverberates – George B. McClellan!
                “No mistake” in these tones, they thrill through our bones.
                And with them we’ll defeat Ancient Abe and his crones.
                For we’re all to the rescue our country to save,
                From wild desolation and anarchy’s grave.

Hark! Hear ye the bugle that rouses the people,
To save this great nation from ruin and shame,
Whose loud notes are ringing o’er hill and o’er valley,
Proclaiming our faith in McClellan’s proud name?
Then up with our banner! Our gallant young leader
Is our best and our bravest – his deeds are our fame.

No jokes from his lips when our whole land is sodden
With blood that has burst from the hearts of our braves;
When the face of our country, neath the hot breath of battles,
Where our heroes have struggled is blistered to graves,
Then up with our banner! Emblazon upon it,
“We will give to our country the man that she craves.”

He will carry the flag he has led on to battle –
Not a star would he tear from its broad field of blue;
The flag that mid sorrows, privations and troubles,
O’er the heads of our fathers triumphantly flew.
Then up with our banner! Our hero and statesman
Can conquer all storms that fanatics can brew.

We don’t label him “honest” – experience teaches
That trumpeting trademarks but cover deceit.
No rebuke from his lips of his senseless detractors;
His glorious record all falsehood can meet,
Then up with the banner for George B. McClellan!
Our hopes and our honors we throw at his feet.

He tells us no stories to suit this occasion,
When gravest of destinies balance the scale,
He acts like a man and he talks like a statesman,
Though we never yet heard of his “splitting a rail”
Then up with our banner for George B. McClellan!
With him as our leader, say, how can we fail?

Say, brothers, have you seen Abe Lincoln,
With a sour look on his face,
Go down the road towards Salt River,
Like a man who’s lost a race?

He heard a sound through all the nation,
Where the Union-lovers stay;
And he says to Hannibal, Let’s leave sudden,
While we can get away.

Abe may be smart, but Mac is smarter,
And the people think so too;
And on the eighth day of November,
I’ll tell you what we’ll do.

We’ll fix the flint of Old Abe Lincoln,
And his thieving shoddy crew;
We’ll have the Union back again,
And the Constitution too!

The shoddyites will feel so mournful,
When contracts come no more;
They can put their plunder on the Salt River steamer,
Where the Joker goes before.

We have two Georges and the Union,
And the old flag tried and true;
And it shall wave o’er all the nation,
From Maine to Mexico.

Old Abraham he made us trouble,
And he split us up for a spell;
But we will send him up Salt River,
With Seward and his bell.

The country’s saved, the word is spoken,
And McClellan leads us on;
So give three rousing cheers for the Union,
And Mac and Pendleton.

Dear Seward, I remember well,
                The day that brought the news to me,
Of the doings down in Baltimore.
                My heart was full of joy and glee;
I did not dream that four short months
                Would crush the hopes that did beguile,
O, Seward, dear, draw near to me,
                Dear Seward, I’m going home to “spile!”

Chorus -
Call Stanton, Chase Blair, to my side,
                To take “your uncle’s” last good-bye,
                                                Good-bye.
O, Seward, dear draw near to me,
                Dear Seward, I’m going home to “spile!”

Hark! Here comes glorious Little Mac –
                I can no longer with you stay;
My country tells me to be gone,
                The crowds advance in great array.
My day is past – I feel that now,
                Our policy is not the style;
O, Seward, dear draw near to me,
                Dear Seward, I’m going home to “spile!”

Dear Seward, Stanton, Chase and all,
                One parting shake from all, good-bye!
Yes, weep, for no more jokes of mine
                Can save me now – I’ve got to fly!
Go bring me my Scotch cloak and cap,
                Which carried me safely many a mile.
O, Seward, dear draw near to me,
                Dear Seward, I’m going home to “spile!”

Greeley dear, do you remember,
                When the oath I took
To support the Constitution,
                On the Holy Book.
Then the North around me rallied,
                The Union to sustain;
To aid your schemes that oath I’ve broken.
                Yet ‘tis all in vain.

Chorus -
Sitting near my window,
I hear the people shout,
For “Gallant Little Mac” they’re calling,
For him they’ll turn me out.

O! why did I to you listen,
                Take you for my guide,
The people only want the Union
                And your plans deride.
I behold a ruined country,
                Which I might have saved,
Had I spurned your wicked counsels
                And your anger braved.

Chorus -
Sitting near my window,
I hear the people shout,
For “Gallant Little Mac” they’re calling,
For him they’ll turn me out.

Better far, were I now splitting
                Rails – as in past time
That’s a business better suited
                To a mind like mine.
Then my jokes the people relished,
                Now ‘tis plain they mean
To turn my best one back upon me –
                “Swap horses in the stream!”

Chorus -
Sitting near my window,
I hear the people shout,
For “Gallant Little Mac” they’re calling,
For him they’ll turn me out.

A Kingdom Comin

Time was we had a happy nation,
                And a staunch democracy;
Our fame was wide throughout creation,
                And a proud young people we;
But things have changed – a comet’s risen –
                With a different tale to tell,
And no man now is safe from prison
                At a touch from Seward’s bell.
                                Alas! for Liberty!
                                                Alas! for Uncle Sam!
                                We’ve lived to see the kingdom coming
                                                In the days of Abraham.

Time was we had our free discussion,
                With the press, the tongue, the pen,
Nor had we learned to ape the Russian
                With his spies and dungeons then.
But now unless one sings the praises
                Of the Lincoln-Stanton crew,
Some bastile yawns as quick as blazes,
                And the poor soul is lost to view.
                                There is dreary liberty,
                                                Our rights are all a sham;
                                Sure this must be a kingdom coming
                In the days of Abraham.

The men their ballots cast unfearing,
                And had thought it strange to find
A blue coat conscript guard appearing,
                With loaded gun behind.
Our taxes now and debts are bigger
                Than we’ll likely soon to pay!
But Abram wants to free the nigger,
                And we’ve let him have his way.
                                Our chance for Liberty
                                                Is hardly worth a clam,
                                For there’s a nigger kingdom coming,
                                                And the king is Abraham!