Respectfully dedicated to 
"Ye Chivalry" who are "Born to the Saddle."

"How Are You, Telegraph!" (1862)
Song and Chorus.
Words by William Collins. 
Music by Geo[rge]. W. Work.

Geo. W. Work Publication: 
Cleveland: S. Brainard & Co., 203 Superior Street
Plate Number: 1484-4
[Source:: 088/080@Levy]

1. John Morgan paid us a visit, you know; 
All booted and spurr’d was he; 
With a jolly gay gang, four thousand or so, 
And cannon numbering three. 
He made it his boast, he could galop straight thro’ 
What a roystering blade was he! 
Buckeyes and Hoosiers, with all of his crew, 
Till he heard the bugles of Lee. are you, Telegraph!

CHORUS [sung after each verse]
Ho! gather your flocks and sound the alarm 
For the Partisan rangers have come. 
Bold knights of the road they scour each farm 
And scamper at tap of the drum. 
How are you, Telegraph!

2. John came in excellent style, to be sure 
With banner and brand came he. 
His clatt’ring hoofs made a tertible roar, 
And his cannon numbering three. 
The Hoosiers were scared; so enter’d the race. 
What a rowdyish set were they; 
And the Buckeyes mounted to join in the chase, 
As Johnny gallop’d their way.

 3. John rode till the seat of his breeches were worn; 
What a crazy rider was he, 
With his jolly gay flags, so dusty and torn, 
And his cannon numbering three. 
All jaded for sleep, and quite weak in the back. 
His troupers vote it a bore, 
But the Buckeyes relish the fun on the track. 
What a merry go round to beshure.

4. John order’d his scouts to the river to scan; 
What a chapfallen fellow was he; 
But when they return’d, he sigh’d for his men 
And cannon numbering three. 
A pleasant old gunboat, mousing below, 
Was waiting for toll that day. 
John Morgan concluded his scrip couldn’t go, 
So Johnny must gallop away.

5. John rode to the left, 
John rode to the right; 
What a woolgathered Morgan was he. 
Don Quixotte had never so ugly a plight, 
With cannon numbering three. 
Bedevilled, begirt on hill and on plain, 
The foe on his front and his rear, 
With the most of his troopers captured or slain; 
Why, John, what a wonderful scare!

6. Then Shackleford came with his sabre and gun, 
What a surly old fellow was he; 
And he gobbled them up as a boy would a bun, 
They and their cannon numbering three. 
He gobbled them up in all of their pride; 
John Morgan, where is the fun? 
And he taught them a lesson in taking a ride, 
To go where the wires don’t run.