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The Bobolink's (Campaign) Song.

SOLO, DUET, AND CHORUS FOR MALE VOICES.
Words by G. W. BUNGAY.
Arranged and partly composed by A. CULL.

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[Solo]
1. When I am in the sunny South,
I dare not sing my mellow strains,
A song of Freedom from my mouth
Would drown amid the din of chains.

[Duet]
So I think-on, think-on, think-on,
Until my visit there is spent,
So I think-on, think-on, think-on,
Until my visit there is spent.

[Chorus]
NOW ABE LINCOLN, LINCOLN, LINCOLN
Is bound to be our President,
NOW ABE

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LINCOLN, LINCOLN, LINCOLN
Is bound to be our President.

2.
So in the clover meadows here,
I spread with joy my happy wing,
And long before another year
In the fair South-land I can sing:
Now I'll drink-on, drink-on, drink-on,
From the soft flower-cups filled with dew;
Chorus.
Cousin LINCOLN, LINCOLN, LINCOLN,
Here are my best respects to you.

3.
May every man who feels and thinks
The time of triumph is at hand,
Repeat the song of Bobolinks,
Now ringing through our happy land.
If our LINCOLN, LINCOLN, LINCOLN
Fails, notwithstanding my sweet strains,
Chorus.
I shall get, I'm thinkin', thinkin',
A coat of feathers for my pains.

4.
I can be chief musician here;
Only a reed or rice - bird there;
I hush my notes for half the year,
And change the plumage that I wear.
In bright fields I blink-on, blink-on;
Now I am not, a plumed poltroon.
Chorus.

I will vote for honest LINCOLN
To take the Presidential throne.

5.
They have no bards nor bobolinks
To sing for liberty divine,
In the fair land where slavery clinks,
Her chains across the Border-line.
They will clink-on, clink-on, clink-on,
Until the Union breaks in twain,
Chorus.
Unless votes for LINCOLN, LINCOLN
Fall fast like storms of summer rain.

Notes.

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When the bobolink migrates to the South he stops singing, changes his plumage, and is known as the rice-bird of Georgia and the Carolinas, and the reed-bird of Maryland.