THE NEW BALLAD OF LORD LOVELL.*

23. July 2008 by admin.

*Mansfield Lovell, who commanded the rebel forces at New Orleans, and who, on the approach of the national fleet and army to that place, “led his forces out of the town.”

LORD LOVELL,he sat in St. Charles’s Hotel,
In St. Charles’s Hotel sat he,
As fine a case of a southern swell
As ever you’d wish to see–see–see,
As ever you’d wish to see.

Lord Lovell the town had vowed to defend;
A-waving his sword on high,
He swore that his last ounce of powder he’d spend,
And in the last ditch he’d die.

He swore by black and he swore by blue,
He swore by the stars and bars,
That never he’d fly from a Yankee crew
While he was a son-of Mars.

He had fifty thousand gallant men,
Fifty thousand men had he,
Who had all sworn with him that they’d never surren-
Der to any tarnation Yankee.

He had forts that no Yankee alive could take;
He had iron-clad boats a score,
And batteries all around the Lake
And along the river-shore.

Sir Farragut came with a mighty fleet,
With a mighty fleet came he,
And Lord Lovell instanter began to retreat
Before the first boat he could see.

His fifty thousand gallant men
Dwindled down to thousands six.
They heard a distant cannon, and then
Commenced a-cutting their sticks.

“O! tarry, Lord Lovell!” Sir Farragut cried,
“O! tarry, Lord Lovell!” said he;
“I rather think not,” Lord Lovell replied,
“For I’m in a great hurry.

“I like the drinks at St. Charles Hotel,
But I never could bear strong Porter,
Especially when its served on the shell,
Or mixed in an iron mortar.”

“I reckon you’re right,” Sir Farragut said,
“I reckon you’re right,” said he,
“For if my Porter should fly to your head,
A terrible smash there’d be.”

O! a wonder it was to see them run,
A wonderful thing to see;
And the Yankees sailed up without shooting a gun,
And captured their great citie.

Lord Lovell kept running all day and night,
Lord Lovell a-running kept he,
For he swore he couldn’t abide the sight
Of the gun of a live Yankee.

When Lord Lovell’s life was brought to a close
By a sharp-shooting Yankee gunner,
From his head there sprouted a red, red nose,
From his feet–a Scarlet Runner.

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