Laura, Laura, Don't Secede

Laura, Laura, Don V Secede Kiss me, Laura, ere I go, Arm'd and drill'd, to meet the foe; Gun in hand, and on my back A sixteen-pounder — haversack. I go; my country calls — adieu! To both, my darling girl, be true; And come success, come scathe and need, Laura, Laura, don't secede. When on the tented field, perhaps, With rations short, and shorter naps, We wheel, present, advance, retreat, ThouTt have — O heavens! — at thy feet Some one persuadingly present Himself and an establishment; Laura, no such trifler heed; Though he glitter, don't secede. Cling unto thy mother, dear; Let no "Home Guards" come anear, Dancing gewgaws 'fore thy eyes, Making light of household ties, Prating of thy woman's rights, Gallanting thee about o'nights, Lest the rose should prove a weed Basely crimsoned — don't secede. Good-bye, Laura! No regrets If from balls and bayonets, From "broils and battles" — (boils, I mean; For deadlier is the soup tureen, When badly seasoned, than the bore Of the loudest cannon that can roar) — Safe delivered, swiftly I Back to ease and thee will fly; United then, in word and deed, Laura, dear, well both secede. 16 ...