No Curs’d Abstractions

WHIG SONG. TUNE. — Roy’s wife of Aldivalloch, Harry Clay of old Kentucky, Harry Clay of old Kentucky, There’s ne’er a man in all the land. Like Harry Clay of Old Kentucky, When foreign foes our rights denied, Whose voice aroused our martial thunder? And when we’d lowered old England’s pride. Who still’d the stormContinue reading “No Curs’d Abstractions”