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52 FOLK-SONGS OF THE CIVIL WAR.
And for the stock of Plymouth rock, Whence sprung this new Conscription !
What matter if you 're sandwiched in
A host of sable fellows, Well flavored men, your kith and kin,
As Abe and Sumner tell us ? Is not the war — this murder — for
The negro, nolens volens ? For every three now killed of ye There 's just a negro stolen. And then ye have Conscription,
American Conscription, Your blood must flow for this, you know. Hurrah for the Conscription !
The songs written by the soldiers and sailors themselves, descriptive of their engagements, or incidents of camp and march, or expressing their feelings, were not many, either in folk-ballads or finished poetry. Major J. W. De Forrest's powerful verses, In Louisiana, are almost the only specimen of the latter, and there are but few of the ruder ballads. It may have been because the soldiers and sailors were too much occupied, and that the life in camp and on shipboard was not favorable to poetical reverie, although there were many hours on picket or watch which might have been thus employed; but the fact remains that there was more carving of bone rings than of