%images; ]> scsm-000063 Dan Bryant's popular comic song How are you green-backs : as sung by him with immense success at Bryant's Minstrels ; also by Mrs. John Wood in the grand fairy extravaganza Fair one with the golden locks / words by E. Bowers, Esq. ; arranged by Chas. Glover ; [additional verses by G.W.H. Griffin] ...: a machine readable transcription. STERN COLLECTION OF LINCOLNIANA, Library of Congress Selected and converted. American Memory, Library of Congress.

Washington, DC, 2006.

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 Rare Book & Special Collections Division, Library of Congress. Public Domain

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 2008/04/18
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How Are You Green-Backs.

We're coming, Father Abram, One hundred thousand more, Five hundred presses printing us from morn till night is o'er; Like magic, you will see us start and scatter thro' the land To pay the soldiers or release the border contraband, With our promise to pay, “How are you Secretary Chase”? Promise to pay, Oh! dat's what's de matter.

We're coming, Father Abram, One hundred thousand more, And cash was ne'er so easily evok'd from rags before; To line the fat contractors purse, or purchase transport craft ... Whose rotten hulls shall sink before the winds begin to waft, With our promises to pay, “How are you Gideon Welles, Esquire”? Promise to pay, Oh! can't you fix the date?

We're coming, Father Abram, one hundred thousand more, I hope a present blessing, though perhaps a future foe; The simple terms on which we come, are hardly worth a fuss, Now, Abe, as we may father you, I hope you'll Father us, With your promise to pay, How are you “Cousin Postage Stamps” Promise to pay—No more Rappahannock's.

We're willing, Father Abram, one hundred thousand more Should help our Uncle Samuel to prosecute the war, But then we want a chieftain true, one who can lead the van, Geo. B. McClellan, you all know, he is the very man. With his Potomac Army Grand, Peace once more will smile on us, His Potomac Army Grand, Three cheers for little Mac.

We're coming, Father Abram, one hundred thousand more, To march with gleaming bayonets upon the traitor's shore, But you must give us Generals on whom we can depend, And not let paper Generals, drive off our faithful men, With our promise to pay, How are you “Bull Run Russell” Promise to pay—“Pop goes the weasel.”

We're coming, Father Abram, nine hundred thousand strong, With nine hundred thousand darkies, sure the traitors can't last long With Corporal Cuff, and Sergeant Pomp, to lead us in the melee, And at their head, without a red, Our Brigadier General Greely, With our promise to pay, How are you “Greely's subscription list” Promise to pay—“Nip up de dooden doo.”

We're coming, Father Abram, nine hundred thousand more, With the greatest fighting hero, that lives upon our shore; He fought in all the battles won, and shed his blood most freely, But he's fought them with the Tribune, and his name is Gen'l Greely. With our promise to pay, How are you “Black Brigade” Promise to pay- -Three cheers for Father Abe!