[Marxism] Re: Happy Birthday, John Brown

[Brian Shannon <Brian_Shannon@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Here are some more additional verses, plus Julia Ward Howe’s great 
hymn, which generalizes the struggle, sifts out the hearts of men who 
are called on to die to make men free, brings God and patriotism into 
the act and crushes the serpent. John Brown would have loved her 
version.

VERSION No. 1
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
His soul is marching on.

CHORUS:
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
His soul is marching on.

He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord,
He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord,
He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord,
His soul is marching on!

John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
His soul is marching on!

His pet lambs will meet him on the way,
His pet lambs will meet him on the way,
His pet lambs will meet him on the way,
They go marching on!

They will hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree,
They will hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree,
They will hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree,
As they march along!

Now, three rousing cheers for the Union,
Now, three rousing cheers for the Union,
Now, three rousing cheers for the Union,
As we are marching on!

VERSION No. 2
Source unknown; DIGITRAD FILENAME: JOHNBRWN
John Brown's body lies a-moulderin' in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-moulderin' in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-moulderin' in the grave,
But his soul goes marching on.

CHORUS:
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
His soul goes marching on.

He captured Harper's Ferry with his nineteen men so true;
He frightened old Virginia 'til she trembled through and through.
They hanged him for a traitor, themselves the traitor's crew,
His soul goes marching on.

The stars above in Heaven are a-lookin' kindly down,
The stars above in Heaven are a-lookin' kindly down,
The stars above in Heaven are a-lookin' kindly down,
On the grave of old John Brown.

He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord,
He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord,
He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord,
His soul goes marching on.


About 1856 William Steffe of South Carolina wrote a camp-meeting song 
with the traditional "Glory Hallelujah" refrain. It started with the 
words "Say, brothers, will you meet us on Canaan's happy shore?" The 
tune had such an infectious swing that it became widely known.

Early in the Civil War, a regiment stationed in Boston included a 
soldier named John Brown. This regiment using Steffe's tune sang about 
the fiery John Brown of Kansas who shortly before had made his stand 
against slavery, but directed it as a jest toward their contemporary 
John Brown.

This version, using the words "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in 
the grave, but his soul goes marching on," soon became popular among 
the Union troops. In December 1861, Julia Ward Howe heard this version 
being sung, and at the suggestion of a friend, she went back to the 
Hotel Willard in Washington... and wrote the new words for Steffe's 
tune, now known as "Battle Hymn of the Republic." This stirring poem 
was published in The Atlantic Monthly in February, 1862, and soon the 
words of Mrs. Howe of Boston, sung to the tune by the Southerner, 
William Steffe, became synonymous with the Union cause.


Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.

CHORUS:
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,
His day is marching on.

I have read His fiery gospel writ in rows of burnished steel!
"As ye deal with my contemners, so with you My grace shall deal!
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,"
Since God is marching on.

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free!
While God is marching on.
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