"Ulysses Leads the Van" (1864)
A Patriotic Song
Arranged [for the Piano] by Dr. W. J. Wetmore
Words & Music [Melody] by E. W. Locke

New York: S. T. GORDON, 538 Broadway
[Source: 006/108@Levy]

1.
We've sung the praise of many braves,
 While marching on to battle,
Whose deeds and words haves served our arms,
 Amid the musket's rattle;
But now another leader comes,
 Who every doubt dismisses,
With shout and song we welcome home,
 The nation's hope, Ulysses!

CHORUS [sung after each verse]
Ulysses leads the van.
 Ulysses leads the van.
We'll ever dare to follow where,
 Ulysses leads the van.

2.
The West has seen his flashing steel,
 On many a field of glory;
His soldiers tell, around their fires,
 The never-wearying story,
Of victories won, and every boast,
 With ardor undiminished,
That when Ulysses does a job,
 He leaves no work unfinished.

3.
The East extends a welcome hand,
 And loads him with caresses;
She's made his name a household word,
 That age and childhood blesses;
And now she stands, with beating heart,
 Along his war-path gazing,
While at her altars, morn and night,
 Her prayers for him she's raising.

4.
Her soldiers know by heart the fields
 Whereon his flag is planted,
And where the boasting traitors found
 Their right to yield was Granted:
And now they long to hear his word,
 And onward tramp together--
And Richmond's spires they hope to greet
 Ere Summer's blossoms wither!

5.
They tell of Vicksburg, where, two years,
 The rebel flag was floating,
How Uncle Sam was in a fix
 About his Western boating;
Till once he thought he had one lad
 Whose rifle never misses,
And so he gave the ugly job
 To his brave boy, Ulysses.

6.
This plan had failed, and so had that,
 And worthless were the ditches;
He saw he'd get to run their fire
 And take them by the breeches;
So, tiger-like, he made a spring,
 And seized them in the tender--
"Hold on" said Pem. "I've got enough!
 I might as well surrender!"

7.
The war will soon be over, boys,
 And then, in countless numbers,
We'll go where drum and bugle note
 Will not invade our slumbers;
And when our dear ones greet us home,
 And give their long-kept kisses
With them we'll talk and sing the deeds
 Of modest, brave Ulysses.