General Butler - Bobby Horton

Butler and I went out from camp

at Bethel to make a battle

And then the south’rons whupped us back

just like a drove of cattle

(CHORUS) Come throw your swords and muskets down;

You do not find them handy

Although we Yankees cannot fight,

At runnin' we’re a dandy

And then we got a monster gun

Which gives us satisfaction

For seven miles are just the space

We Yankees lack in action

Whene’er we go out to fight

The south’rons give us lickin’s

But then we strive to get revenge

By stealin' all their chickens

Oh, Butler stays in Fort Monroe

And listens to the firing,

And when his men have met defeat

Him then goes out inquirin'

To say that Butler will not fight

Is certainly no scandal

For not a trophy has he gained

Except an old pump handle