CHORUS: 

Then sang we a song of our chieftain,
That echoed over river and lea;
And the stars of our banner shone brighter
When Sherman marched down to the sea!

II

Then cheer upon cheer for bold Sherman
Went up from each valley and glen,
And the bugles reechoed the music
That came from the lips of the men;
For we knew that the stars in our banner
More bright in their splendor would be,
And that blessings from Northland world greet us,
When Sherman marched down to the sea! 
             Then sang we a song, etc.

III

Then forward, boys! forward to battle! 
We marched on our wearisome way,
We stormed the wild hills of Resacar
God bless those who fell on that day! 
Then Kenesaw frowned in its glory,
Frowned down on the flag of the free;
But the East and the West bore our standard,
And Sherman marched on to the sea! 
        Then sang we a song, etc.

IV

Still onward we pressed, till our banners
Swept out from Atlanta’s grim walls,
And the blood of the patriot dampened
The soil where the traitor-flag falls;
But we paused not to weep for the fallen,
Who slept by each river and tree,
Yet we twined them a wreath of the laurel,
As Sherman marched down to the sea! 
        Then sang we a song, etc.

V

Oh, proud was our army that morning,
That stood where the pine darkly towers,
When Sherman said, “Boys, you are weary,
But to-day fair Savannah is ours!”
Then sang we the song of our chieftain,
That echoed over river and lea,
And the stars in our banner shone brighter
When Sherman camped down by the sea!

Toward evening of February 17th, the mayor, Dr. Goodwin, came to my quarters at Duncan’s house, and remarked that there was a lady in Columbia who professed to be a special friend of mine.  On his giving her name, I could not recall it, but inquired as to her maiden or family name.  He answered Poyas.  It so happened that, when I was a lieutenant at Fort Moultrie, in 1842-’46, I used very often to visit a family of that name on the east branch of Cooper River, about forty miles from Fort Moultrie, and to hunt with the son, Mr. James Poyas, an elegant young fellow and a fine sportsman.  His father, mother, and several sisters, composed the family, and were extremely hospitable.  One of the ladies was very fond of painting in water-colors, which was one of my weaknesses, and on one occasion I had presented her with a volume treating of water-colors.  Of course, I was glad to renew the acquaintance, and proposed to Dr. Goodwin that we should walk to her house and visit this lady, which we did.  The