Good people all, both great and small,
I sing a tale of pity,
My hand I fling across the string,
And waken up the ditty;
A ruined land that once was grand
Is not a joking matter,
Though Abe, we know, the more our woe,
The more his jokes he'll chatter;
Oh, M'Clellan,
Georgie B. M'Clellan,
Shall we have the Union back?
Tell us 'Mac' - M'Clellan.

All evils sure we could endure,
Thrice all the ills we suffer,
Could we but glance on any chance
Our Union to recover;
There gleams one way a flash of day,
But one bright bow of promise -
Good Lord, alack! just give us 'Mac,'
An' take Abe Lincoln from us!
Oh, M'Clellan,
Georgie B. M'Clellan,
The one to bring the Union back
Is only 'Mac' - M'Clellan.

Then not a rag of our old flag
Should ever part asunder;
'Fair terms of peace if you will cease -
If not, we'll give you thunder!'
A million swords to back our words
Beneath M'Clellan gleaming,
And soon, you know, Jeff D. and Co.,
For France they would be steaming.
Oh, M'Clellan,
Georgie B. M'Clellan,
Soon we'll have our prisoners back
Under Mac - M'Clellan.

The people all, both great and small,
Except the sons of 'shoddy,'
Are on the track for Little Mac -
They're with him, soul and body;
For well they know the nation's woe
Can never be abated,
Till in command of all the land
Our chief we have instated.
Oh, M'Clellan,
Georgie B. M'Clellan,
The Union will come leaping back
Under Mac - M'Clellan.