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The Nineteen Hundred Crossed the deep river Marched up the rugged bluffs, Deployed in the open fieldRight in the field of death, Stood Nineteen Hundred, Heard but their leader's cry, Shouted in glad reply, Ready to do and die, Brave Nineteen Hundred! Behind, the Potomac Gloomily rushed along; Forests to right of them, Forests to left of them, Forests in front of them, Filled with rebel hostStormed with the murderous hail; E'en in the tree-tops Hung the fell marksmen, Sending like lightning-stroke Death to the bravest. Here, in the field of death Threefold outnumbered Stood Nineteen Hundred. Bravely they fought, and well, Charging those sons of hell Full in their ambuscade; Drowning their savage yell With cannon that thundered, Belching forth shot and shell Where lurked the traitor foe. Many a fresh ragged glade Showed the wild work they made, Ploughing with shot and shell; Dyeing the leaves below With no autumnal glow So fought the loyal men Threefold outnumbered— Fought Nineteen Hundred. 134 ...

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