{"character_count": 2061, "word_count": 356, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9117000102996826], "ccnet_perplexity": [1797.5999755859375], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
Liveth p-ouder name in story
Than his, your flag emblazoned onl
On. think you Of the nations glory,
When ii shall tell of victory won.
Arouse We with that god-like spirit
Which woke your dauntless sires of yore.
The glorious name of Wing they bore,
And We their name and blood inherit.
CuoSrs-Hark, hark! It's the bugle's call, &c


I'LL
Say, gallant Whigs, when came the foeman
To strike the flag Young Freedom bore,
Whose voice. arousfng Tar and ieoman,
Silcnced the British Lions roarl
Then proudly out his pinons hinging,
OR Eagle scared his eonquering way,
While millions blessed the name of Clay,
And with his name the land was ringing.
Cnoaus-Hark. bark, lis the bugie's call, &c


~
Where Corrnbia's warm sky bushes,
nations heart enshrines his deeds;
The Grecan, where his lov'd stream gashes,
Reeoun;s them as his flock he feeds.
For every cline whose suns have risen
To break tine tyrant's iron tlirall,
Ills voice hath plead more dear to all
The sunlight in the Captives prison.
CioRus-Hark, hark. lis the bugle's call, &c
Hark. hark. the busy loom and spindle
Inweave his praises in their theme,
And ever sing, as bright eyes kindle,
To the wild music of the stream.
Labor, with brawny arms uplifted,
Him blesses who Protection yields,
And blossom. Ike the rose, the fields
Beneath his magic wand, high gifted.
CHoRus-Hark, hark. It's the bugle's call, &c.


vi
Arouse ye, Wings. Your flag is streaming,
March to the field at beat of drum.
The sunlight in its folds is cleaning,
On! On, to victory We come,
Throughout the Union nobly bear ii,
Your Cheftain treads the path OF Fame;
The Civic Crown shall gid his name,
And none more worthy can wear it,


CHoRus-Barz. hark. It's the bagle's call, Sc


VII
Wings Of the UnionI Guard the banner
Which bears your Chiefs undying name,
From nil and plain and broad savannah
1t, trumPet-tongued, shall sound his fame.
Where sat our WASHINGTON before him,
Shall sit the nations favorite son,
And your proudest victory won,
Millions shall bless him and adore him.
CHoEus-Hark! harl1, lis the buge's call, &c