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All Hail to the Chief!


TUNE — "Mellow Horn."

All hail the Chief whose magic name
Inspires the Freeman's song,
And fills his soul with sacred flame,
To pour the notes along.
Blithe Echo on her airy wing,
Responsive bears away,
The merry note which Freemen sing
In praise of Harry Clay!
Hurra, hurra, hurra, hurra, hurra, for Harry Clay!
Hurra, &c.

All classes zealously combine,
To raise the song on high;
And distant franchised Nations join,
To waft it to the sky.
Where Freemen e'er have dared to rise,
Against the tyrant's sway,
Are heard the notes of heartfelt praise,
For noble Harry Clay!
Hurra, &c.

Columbia's torrid sky is bright
With his untarnished fame;
And Greece responds with fond delight;
To her defender's name;
And dark Liberia's grateful tongue
Reiterates the lay —


And swells the chorus gaily sung
For gallant Harry Clay!
Hurra, &c.

The farmer-boy at early dawn,
With loud and manly voice,
Is heard upon the laughing lawn,
To sing the Nation's choice;
And every free mechanic starts,
To swell the loud huzza,
With zeal which only love imparts,
For home-spun Harry Clay!
Hurra, &c.

Though Treason triumphs o'er the land,
With black despotic rule —
And Virtue weeps beneath the hand
Of a misguided tool;
Yet Hope comes laughing from the skies,
To dissipate dismay,
And bids the drooping Nation rise,
And look to Harry Clay!
Hurra, &c.

Then let the merry, merry chime
From Earth to Heaven ascend,
Of Home Protection all the time,
And Hal, the poor man's friend!
John Tyler, cover'd with disgrace,
In shame must sink away;
We have a man to fill his place,
Immortal HARRY CLAY!!
Hurra, &c.