On our way to California in the year of ’63
Through Nevada’s barren land rode Mom and Pop, the girls and me –
Where the dry ground stretched around us, like an endless frying pan
And the alkali filled water wasn’t fit for beast or man.
On our wagon Pop had hoisted the old red white and blue
And those colours looked most beauteous up against the barren view.
Far ahead one blistering morning we saw mountains and a town,
Just a little mining outpost in those hills so bare and brown.
As we neared the town a rider, young and fancy in his dress,
Rode to meet our little wagon and these words to Pop addressed
“Take a fool’s advice now mister,” and he eyed our Union flag,
“We don’t tolerate your breed here, best pull down that old dish rag.”
Pop just sat there for a minute, turkey duster cross his knee,
Then he grabbed the flag and raised it up so all the town could see-
Saying “If any man is yearning now to die for dixie land
Let him touch our country’s colours with his dirty rebel hands.”
Then Pop I guess he reckoned it was time to let her rip,
So it’s “Gee-up” tired oxen, and he cracked his black snake whip.
And we rumbled down the main street, while the townsfolk stood and glared
But something in Pop’s manner kept them all a little scared.
And I peered out from the wagon, where the streets with folks were lined
And I softly started singing the first song that came to mind-
“We will welcome to our numbers the loyal, true and brave,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom!
And although he may be poor, he shall never be a slave,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom!”
Then all the family joined me as we rattled through the town
Shouting the battle cry of freedom!
And it cheered our hearts to hear it a-thundering all around
Shouting the battle cry of freedom!
The Union forever! Hurrah, boys, hurrah!
Down with the traitors, up with the stars;
While we rally round the flag, boys, we rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom!
Ruby Hill Nevada-1878
The Telescope 