Songs of the Civil War  -   March 6th, 2021 at 2:oo PM

 

This recital is being offered to shine a light on the mothers, wives, and children; the soldiers pining for their love back home, abolitionists and peacemakers, songs of faith and haunting spirituals.

 

 

Marci Jackson, soprano

Dianne Sprunger, piano

Carrie Jankowski, violin

Connor Buhl, soldier

Michael Jackson, speaker

 

 

Programme

 

Journey 1

Army Hymn (old Hundreth)                         Oliver Wendell Holmes/Ralph Vaughn Williams                1861

Oh, my old man has gone to war                                           “A War Widow”                                             1864

*Children of the Battlefield*                                                   J.G. Clark                                                        1864

Follow the drinking gourd                                                     Lee Hayes                            adapted around 1910’s

Home, Sweet Home                                                                J.H. Payne & Henry R. Bishop                       1856

                                                                                    Spoken word

Journey 2

Do they miss me at home?/The Vacant Chair   Caroline Mason & S.M. Grannis/H.S.W. & George Root     1852/1861

Brother, tell me of the battle                                                   Thomas Manahan & George Root                 1865

When Johnny comes marching home                                    Patrick S. Gilmore                                           1863

A Hymn to Peace                                                                    A Lady of New Orleans & Eugéne Bischoff   1863

Steal Away to Jesus                                                                Traditional Negro Spiritual               prior to 1862

 

Brief Pause

                                                                        Spoken word

Journey 3

Lorena/Aura Lee                               W.W. Fosdick & George R. Poulton/Webster and Webster         1861/1856

Mother, is the battle over?                                                      Benedicts Roefs                                               1862

What will they tell our children?                                            Jennie Séguin Frodsham & J.W. Hobbs         1864

Weeping, Sad and Lonely                                                       Charles C. Sawyer & Henry Tucker                1863

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child                                Henry “Harry” Thacker Burleigh                   1918

                                                           

               Spoken word

Journey 4

Two Brothers                                                                         Irving Gordon                                                 1951

Wait for the Wagon                                                                R. Bishop Buckley                                           1851

Let us have Peace                                                                     W.S. Hays                                                       1861

They are coming from the wars                                             E.H. Munday & J.H Ross                                1865

Give me Jesus                                                 Traditional Negro Spiritual/Moses Hogan                    c. 1867/2000

 


The Songs

Journey 1

 “Union War Song”

O Lord of Hosts! Almighty King!

Behold the sacrifice we bring!

To every arm thy strength impart,

Thy spirit shed through every heart!

     God of all Nations! Sovereign Lord!

In thy dread name, we draw our sword

We lift the starry flag on high

That fills with light our stormy sky.

      From treason’s rent, from murderer’s stain

Guard thou its folds till peace shall reign

Till fort and field, till shore and sea.

Join our loud anthem, Praise to thee. Amen.

“Oh my old man has gone to war.”

Oh my old man has gone to war, He’s gone and left me here

Oh my old man has gone to war, For to be a Brigadier.

With fife and drum and a sergeant bold I saw him march away

He’s gone to fight for a substitute Way down in Georgia.

     His trainin’ jacket was sky blue, so splendid to behold His

jacket was a deep sky blue with buttons all of gold

But now he’s gone to fight for Grant, like a gallant mutineer

Oh my old man has gone to war for to be a Brigadier

     With a painted feather in his hat and a broadsword on his thigh

And a new canteen around his neck to keep his powder dry!

He waved his handkerchief to me, like a dashing privateer

Oh my old man has gone to war for to be a Brigadier!

 

 

Children of the Battlefield”

Upon the field of Gettysburg, the summer sun was high

When Freedom met her haughty foe, beneath a northern sky;

Among the heroes of the North, who swelled her grand array

And rushed like mountain eagles forth from happy homes away,

There stood a man of humble fame, a sire of children three

And gazed within a little frame, their pictur’d form to see

And blame him not if in the strife he breathed a soldier’s prayer:

Oh Father, shield a soldier’s wife and for his children care.

     Upon the field of Gettysburg, when morning shone again

The crimson cloud of battle burst in streams of fiery rain

Our legions quelled the awful flood of shot and steel and shell

While banners marked with ball and blood

Around them rose and fell

And none more nobly won the name of Champion of the Free

Than he who pressed the little frame that held his children three

And none were braver in the strife than he who breathed a prayer

O! Father, shield a soldier’s wife and for his children care.

     Upon the field of Gettysburg, the full moon slowly rose,

She looked, and saw ten thousand brows all pale in death’s repose

And down beside a silver stream from other forms away

Calm as a warrior in a dream our fallen comrade lay

His limbs were cold, his sightless eyes were fixed upon the three

Sweet stars that rose in memry’s skies to light him o’er death’s sea.

Then honored be the soldier’s life and hallowed be his prayer

O! Father shield the soldier’s wife and for his children care.

 

 

“Follow the drinkin’ gourd”

Follow, follow follow.

Follow the drinkin’ gourd, follow the drinking gourd

For the old man is awaitin’ for to carry you to freedom

If you follow the drinkin’ gourd!

     When the sun comes up and the last quail calls,

Follow the drinkin’ gourd!

For the old man is awaitin’ for to carry you to freedom

If you follow the drinkin’ gourd.

     The riverbank will make a mighty good road

Dead trees will show you the way

Left foot, peg foot, travelin’ on

If you follow the drinkin’ gourd

     The river ends between two hills

Follow the drinkin’ gourd

There’s another river on the other side

Follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Follow the drinkin’ gourd, follow the drinking gourd

For the old man is awaitin’ for to carry you to freedom

If you follow the drinkin’ gourd!

 

 

 

“Home, Sweet Home”

Mid pleasures and palaces though I may roam

Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home

A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there

Which seek thro’ the world is ne’er met with elsewhere.

       Home! Home! Sweet, sweet home!

       There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.

  To thee I’ll return over burdened with care

The heart’s dearest solace will smile on me there

No more from that cottage again will I roam

Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home

       Home! Home! Sweet, sweet home.

       There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home

 

 

 Journey 2

Do they miss me at home? / The Vacant Chair”

Do they miss me at home, do they miss me?

‘Twould be an assurance most dear,

To know that this moment some loved one

Were saying “I wish he were here”;

To feel that the group at the fireside

Were thinking of me as I roam,

Oh, yes, ‘twould be joy beyond measure

To know that they missed me at home,

To know that they missed me at home.

                  We shall meet but we shall miss him

                  There will be one vacant chair,

                  We shall linger to remember

                  While we breathe our evening prayer.

                  When a year ago we gathered

                  Joy was in his mild blue eye

                  But a golden cord is severed

                  And our hopes in ruin lie.

Do they set me a chair near the table

When evenings home pleasures are nigh

When the candles are lit in the parlor

And the stars in the calm azure sky?

And when the “good nights” are repeated

And all lay them down to their sleep

Do they think of the absent and waft me

A whispered “good night” while they weep?

A whispered “good night while they weep?

                  At the fireside, sad and lonely

                  Often will the bosom swell

                  At remembrance of the story

                  How our noble Willie fell;

                  How he strove to bear our banner

                  Thro’ the thickest of the fight

                  And uphold our country’s honor

                  In the strength of manhood’s might.

                  We shall meet, but we shall miss him

                  There will be one vacant chair

                  We shall linger to caress him

                  When we breathe our evening prayer.

 

When Johnny comes marching home”    

When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah, hurrah!

We’ll give him a hearty welcome then, hurrah, hurrah!

The men will cheer, the boys will shout

The ladies they will all turn out,

And we’ll all feel gay when Johnny comes marching home.

     The old church bell will peal with joy, hurrah, hurrah!

To welcome home our dearest boy, hurrah, hurrah!

The village lads and lassies say with roses they will strew the way

And we’ll all feel gay when Johnny comes marching home.

     Get ready for the Jubilee, hurrah, hurrah!

We’ll give the hero three times three, hurrah, hurrah!

The laurel wreath is ready now to place upon his loyal brow

And we’ll all feel gay when Johnny comes marching home!

     Let love and friendship on that day, Hurrah hurrah!

Their choicest treasures then display, Hurrah hurrah!

And let each one perform some part

To fill with joy the warrior’s heart,

And we’ll all feel gay when Johnny comes marching home.

 

 

“Brother tell me of the battle”

Brother tell me of the battle, how the soldiers fought and fell

Tell me of the weary marches, she who loves will listen well.

Brother draw thee close beside me, lay your head upon my breast

While you’re telling of the battle, let your fevered forehead rest.

Brother, tell me of the battle, How the soldiers fought and fell,

Tell me of the weary marches, she who loves will listen well.

 Brother, tell me of the battle, for they said your life was o’er.

They all told me you had fallen, that I’d never see you more;

Oh, I’ve been so sad and lonely, filled my breast has been with pain,

Since they said my dearest brother, I should never see again.

  Brother, tell me of the battle, I can bear to hear it now,

Lay your head upon my bosom, let me soothe your fevered brow.

Tell me, are you badly wounded? Did we win the deadly fight?

Did the victory crown our banner? Did you put the foe to flight?

Brother, tell me of the battle, How the soldiers fought and fell,

Tell me of the weary marches, she who loves will listen well.

“A Hymn to Peace”

O gentle Peace, before thee stand,

The children of this bleeding land,

A weary, worn, but hopeful band,

Thy blessings, thy blessings to implore;

O let thy dulcet whispers come,

To every heart, to every home,

As erst they came of yore, as erst they came of yore.

     Dim eyes that watch, would seek repose,

Sad hearts that weep, their wounds would close,

While prayers which for our country’s woes,

Are daily, are daily born above,

All turn to thee and fondly crave,

From these protracted ills to save,

The land we dearly love, the land we dearly love.

 

 

Steal away to Jesus”

Steal away, steal away, steal away to Jesus,

Steal away, steal away home.

I ain’t got long to stay here.

     My Lord calls me, He calls me by the thunder

The trumpet sounds with-in-a my soul,

I ain’t got long to stay here.

Steal away, steal away, steal away to Jesus,

Steal away, steal away home.

     Green trees are bendin’

Poor sinner stands a-tremblin’

The trumpet sounds with-in-a my soul,

I ain’t got long to stay here.

Steal away, steal away, steal away to Jesus,

Steal away, steal away home.

I ain’t got long to stay here.

Journey 3

“Lorena / Aura Lee”

The years creep slowly by, Lorena,

The snow is on the grass again;

The sun’s low down the sky, Lorena,

The frost gleams where the flow’rs have been.

But the heart throbs on as warmly now,

As when the summer days were nigh;

Oh! the sun has never dipped so low,

A-down affection’s cloudless sky.

                  As the blackbird in the spring

                  Neath the willow tree

                  Sat and piped I hear him sing

                  Praising Aura Lee.

                  Aura Lee! Aura Lee!

Maid of golden hair.

                  Sunshine came along with thee

                  And swallows in the air.

                     Take my heart and take my ring

                  I give my all to thee.

                  Take me for eternity

                  Dearest Aura Lee!

                  Aura Lee! Aura Lee!

                  Maid of golden hair.

                  Sunshine came along with thee

                  And swallows in the air.

We loved each other then, Lorena,

More than we ever dared to tell

And what we might have been, Lorena,

Had but our lovings prospered well.

But then tis past, the years are gone

I’ll not call on thy shadowy forms

Oh! I’ll say to them, lost years, sleep on.

Sleep on! Nor heed life’s pelting storms.

                  Aura Lee! Aura Lee!

                  Maid of golden hair.

                  Sunshine came along with thee

                  And swallows in the air.

 

“Mother is the battle over?”

Mother is the battle over? Mother is the battle over?

Thousands, thousands have been killed, they say;

Is my Father coming? Tell me.

Have our soldiers gained the day?

Is he well or is he wounded?

Mother do you think he’s slain?

If you know, I pray you tell me,

Will my Father come again, will my father come again?

Mother dear, you’re always sighing, since you last the paper read,

Tell me why you know are crying.

Why that cap is on your head?

Why that cap is on you head!

Ah! I see you cannot tell me.

Father’s one among the slain;

Altho’ he loved us very dearly, He will never come again!

“What will they tell our children”

What will they tell our children?

When this sad war is o’er

When might and right have won the fight

And peace shall reign once more?

They’ll speak of deeds, of valor done

With heartfelt, honest pride,

By Father! Son! Aye everyone

Who there for freedom died!

     What will they tell the orphans when for their sires they ask

And fain would prove a Father’s love?

God aid them in their task!

They’ll bid each child heed well the tale,

With sorrow, yet with pride,

And say to all, “Your sire did fall” on battlefield and died.

     What will they tell the mourners?

Throughout the land now found,

The mothers, wives, whose hearts and lives

In husbands, sons, were bound?

They’ll urge them place in God their trust,

Bid orphans tears be dried,

And mourn no more those gone before,

And who for Freedom died!

 

 

“Weeping sad and lonely” (When this cruel war is over)

Dearest love, do you remember, when we did last meet,

How you told me that you loved me, kneeling at my feet?

Oh! how proud you stood before me in your suit of blue,

When you vowed to me and country, ever to be true.

      Weeping sad and lonely, hope and fears how vain!

      When this cruel war is over, praying that we meet again!

 When the summer breeze is sighing, mournfully along;

Or when autumn leaves are falling, sadly breathes a song.

Oft in dreams I see thee lying on the battle plain,

Lonely, wounded, even dying, calling but in vain.

   But our country called you, darling,

Angels cheer your way;

While our nation’s sons are fighting

We can only pray.

Nobly strike for God and liberty, let all nations see,

How we love our starry banner, Emblem of the free.

       Weeping sad and lonely, hope and fears how vain!

  When this cruel war is over, praying that we meet again!

 

 

“Sometimes I feel like a motherless chile”

Sometimes I feel like a motherless chile,

Sometimes I feel like a motherless chile,

Sometimes I feel like a motherless chile,

A long ways from home,

A long ways from home.

     Sometimes I feel like I’m almost gone,

Sometimes I feel like I’m almost gone,

Sometimes I feel like I’m almost gone,

A long ways from home,

A long ways from home.

 

Journey 4

“Two Brothers”

Two brothers on their way, two brothers on their way

Two brothers on their way, one wore blue and one wore gray.

One wore blue and one wore gray;

As they marched along their way; A fife and drum began to play,

There on a beautiful morning.

     One was gentle one was kind, one was gentle one was kind

One came home, one stayed behind,

A cannonball don’t pay no mind.

Tho’ you’re gentle or your kind.

It don’t think of the folks behind.

There on a beautiful morning.

     Two girls waitin’ by the railroad track,

Two girls waitin’ by the railroad track,

For their darlin’s to come back;

One wore blue and one wore black,

One wore blue and one wore black

Waitin’ by the railroad track, for their darlin’s to come back,

There on a beautiful morning.

 

 “Wait for the Wagon”

Will you come with me, my Phyllis dear,

To yon blue mountain free?

Where the blossoms smell the sweetest,

Come rove along with me.

It’s every Sunday morning, when I am by your side,

We’ll jump into the wagon and all take a ride.

         Wait for the wagon, wait for the wagon,

         Wait for the wagon and we’ll all take a ride.

Where the river runs like silver, and the birds they sing so sweet

I have a cabin, Phyllis, and something good to eat.

Come listen to my story, it will relieve my heart

So jump into the wagon and off we will start.

         Wait for the wagon, wait for the wagon

         Wait for the wagon and we’ll all take a ride.

Your lips are red as poppies, your hair so slick and neat,

All braided up with dahlias and hollyhocks so sweet.

It’s every Sunday morning, when I am by your side,

We’ll jump into the wagon and all take a ride.

         Wait for the wagon, wait for the wagon,

         Wait for the wagon and we’ll all take a ride.

Together on life’s journey we’ll travel til we stop,

And if we have no trouble, we’ll reach the happy top.

Then come with me, sweet Phyllis, my dear, my lovely bride,

We’ll jump into the wagon and all take a ride.

         Wait for the wagon, wait for the wagon,

         Wait for the wagon and we’ll all take a ride.

***(Audience please join for chorus!)***

         Wait for the wagon, wait for the wagon,

         Wait for the wagon and we’ll all take a ride!

Let us have peace”

America! Beloved land! Once beautiful and bright,

Oh! Why should friendship turn to hate,

Oh, why should brothers fight?

Oh! Hold the mighty arm of war and let this hatred cease

And let our voices shout with joy

That all we want is peace.

Let the cannon’s roar be heard no more

And let the war cry cease

Oh! May our country live again in happiness and peace!

 

“They are coming from the wars”

They are coming from the wars,

They are bringing home their scars

They are bringing back the old flag, too in glory

They have battled long and well and let after ages tell

How they won the proudest name in song or story!

They have broken up their camps,

They are laughing o’er their tramps;

They are joking with the girls who flock around them.

They have left the scanty fair, they have left the fetid air

They have dash’d to earth the prison walls that bound them.

       They are coming from the wars.

       They are bringing back the old flag too in glory,

       They are bringing home their scars,

       The have won the proudest name in song or story

     We are eager with our thanks, we are pressing on their ranks.

We are grasping hands that held the stars unbroken.

Yet we sadly think of those who are sleeping with their foes,

And our trembling tongues give welcome sadly spoken.

But the long delay is past, the have brought us peace at last.

And how proudly through our veins the blood is bounding.

As we bless our honored dead, while the steady martial tread

Of returning veterans in our ears is sounding.

      They are coming from the wars.

      They are bringing back the old flag too in glory,

      They are bringing home their scars,

      They have won the proudest name in song or story.

 

 

“Give me Jesus”

In the morning when I rise,

In the morning when I rise,

In the morning, when I rise, give me Jesus.

  Give me Jesus, give me Jesus,

  You may have all this world, give me Jesus.

     Dark midnight was my cry,

Dark midnight was my cry,

Dark midnight was my cry, give me Jesus.

  Give me Jesus, give me Jesus,

  You may have all this world, give me Jesus.

     Oh, when I come to die,

Oh, when I come to die,

Oh when I come to die, give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus, give me Jesus,

You may have all this world, give me Jesus.

 

 

Programme Notes

 

1)     Scholarly author Stephen Cornelius wrote the following words in his paper entitled- Civil War Music “The Civil War affected American musical life at every level. At home, parlor room music-making was infused with conflicting emotions of fear and pride, loss and relief. On the fronts, music supported marching soldiers as they sang away fear and exhaustion.  Classical music entertainers continued to offer concerts and operas with many musical events linked to the war. Northerners and Southerners sang the same songs and marched to the same march melodies. In the evenings songs of faith floated across homes and encampments. As for African-American music, the Civil War emancipated it, too. Through escaped slaves reaching the North or through northern soldiers operating in the South, white northerners were exposed to African-American music, especially the spirituals.  Away from the front, bands entertained in city streets and parks, orchestras and choirs filled concert halls and sentimental songs enlivened parlors. Music’s resonance gave voice to an era. Always, music bound people together, helped them move forward, and helped them to remember.

     We encourage you, as you listen to these songs, to walk with the men and women who walked on our soil and struggled through the battles, as it is brought to life for you today.

     In the first Journey, we hear the Old Hundredth, feel free to sing along. Shortly after, you’ll hear the slave song “Follow the drinkin’ gourd” which was used as a song to sing hidden messages for slaves to follow and escape on the Underground Railroad. The gourd mentioned is actually referencing the Big Dipper.

 

2)     The inescapabilty of loneliness, suffered by thousands of soldiers is well documented by letters home throughout the Civil War … In one of his first letters home, William McKnight of the Seventh Ohio Volunteer Cavalry confesses “I had to get up and leave the table to hide my tears warm tears of love for you and the little ones at home…my mind is constantly turning homeward.”

     In this next Journey, you will hear that for the initial time in this performance, two melodies have been intertwined just as the thoughts of home and the thoughts from home entwined in the hearts of missing loved ones. It ends with the haunting, yet hopeful spiritual that secretly hid the location of where slaves would meet to run away on their own or through the underground railroad.

 

3)     As in the previous group of songs, there were two songs that were linked, here again we encounter this in the first settings of love songs. Lorena, the forlorn, what might have been air and the hopeful and smitten love song, Aura Lee. Most recently famous by none other than Elvis Presley in his hit “Love Me Tender.” We then encounter a perspective less thought about, that of the children: whose fathers, brothers, and other men they knew who are no longer near them and how the children worry about their mothers. In the piece, “Weeping Sad and Lonely”, you’ll hear Marci sing an all too common and overwhelming emotion of many of the women during this time, that of waiting. “While our country called you, darling, we (wives and mothers) can only pray.”  To emphasize from the opening words, “Music’s resonance gave voice to an era. Always, music bound people together, helped them move forward, and helped them to remember.”

 

4)     More often than not, for every song that was wildly popular in the North or in the South, there existed and version with altered lyrics to please the other side. “The mood and idiom of both North and South were cast from the same mold, so that, almost without exceptions, these songs of sentiment were sung on both sides.”-Irwin Silber 

     “Honor to the soldier and sailor everywhere, who bravely bears his country's cause. Honor, also, to the citizen who cares for his brother in the field and serves, as he best can, the same cause.”-Abraham Lincoln

 

Thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Premiere Performance info**

November 16, 2024, Marci will be performing for the 1st time the pieces written for her by composer Daniel J. McIntosh. The pieces are set to William Blake’s “Songs of Innocence.” Never have all 19 poems been set to music before, so this is a performance NOT to be missed. Not only will it be sung, but the poem and art that Blake engraved will be projected during the performance.

Before and after the performance, there will be a special display of the pieces that have just been newly printed by Michael Phillips specifically for Marci and these performances. This is FIRST time since Blake printed them that all of the Songs of Innocence have been printed in his style of printing/engraving.