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All Hail! To the Whigs.


Tune — "To the friend of my soul."

ALL hail! to the Whigs, who have nobly come forth, —
Connecticut, honour to thee;
Thou hast shown to the world that the men of the North
Have will'd and they dare to be free!
Rhode Island, triumphant, has echoed thy voice,
Every patriot Whig will combine,
To accomplish a victory, — virtue o'er vice,
Decisive and glorious as thine.

Come Whigs, to the polls, let each name be enroll'd,
Our weapon the popular will;
The foeman does battle with "Treasury Gold,"
And vaunteth its potency still.
But arouse ye, who still boast of patriot blood,
And would yet have your children be free;
Stem the tide of corruption, whose poisonous flood
Hath deluged our land like a sea.

Now up with your banner! the battle's begun,
And nerve every arm for the fight;
Our champion, our leader, the brave HARRISON!
Our motto, our country, our right.


Ye minions of power, your efforts are vain;
Van Buren, thy cause is unjust;
Our country, we pledge thee again and again,
Thy sons will prove true to their trust.