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VICKSBURG SONG.* |
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By Capt. J. W. A. Wright. Air—"A Life on the Ocean Wave.'"
A life on the Vicksburg bluff,
A home in the trenches deep, Where we dodge "Yank" shells enough—
And our old " pea-bread " won't keep. On " Old Logan's " beef I pine,
For there's fat on his bones no more ; Oh! give me some pork in brine,
And " truck " from a sutler's store.
Chorus.—A life on the Vicksburg bluff,
A home in the trenches deep, Where we dodge " Yank " shells enough—
And our old "pea-bread" won't keep, Pea-bread, pea-bread, pea-bread;
Our old pea-bread won't keep.
* A writer, describing the seige of Vicksburg, gives the following: " The meal issued to the army was very coarse, and there were no sieves, and the beef, as a general thing, was hardly fit to feed to a dog. Some herds of Texas steers were corraled near the town; lean, gaunt, long-horned, repulsive looking creatures, and every morning the weakest of the herd were slaughtered for the day's rations. In the Twentieth Alabama, each day a company of men could be seen having in their hands long ox-horns, upon which they occasionally blew a mournful blast, as with solemn steps and slow, they bore to a suitable burial place the beef issued to them for that day. Arrived at the spot a hole was dug, the meat was dumped into it, a mound was heaped over it, a funeral oration was said, the ox-horns once more sounded the dolorous requiem, and then the mourners returned to camp, their heads bowed down with grief and sorrow. Upon inquiring what this woeful pageant meant, I was informed that the men were simply engaged in " the burial of Old Logan." |
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