Kentucky O!


Written for the Choir of the National Clay Club.
AIR — On yonder rock reclining.

In Ashland shades reclining,
That manly — noble form behold —
Fast his hands our standard hold,
The Whig's best friend of old.
This way his steps inclining
With fearless tread to meet the foe,
And with strength to lay them low,
November's ides will show.
Tremble — Locos! your doom is coming,
You hear the hills resounding,
Kentucky O! Kentucky O! Kentucky O!

Never his friends betraying,
He fights for them and truth combined;
Seeking our Union firm to bind,
In which our strength we find!


See! Clay is now dismaying.
By blows that fall nor light nor slow,
The wicked plundering crew,
Who brought our country low!
Tremble — Polk! The Whigs are meeting,
With thunder tones repeating
Kentucky O! Kentucky O! Kentucky O!

No, no, we're not mistaken,
We know 'tis Harry bold and true,
Van! He soon will finish you,
And all free traders too!
The People now awaken,
To that which to themselves they owe,
And none better than the Locos know,
That for CLAY they go!
Tremble — Locos! For now you see,
You cannot harm by calumny
Kentucky O! Kentucky O! Kentucky O!