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Darling South ! when I think every forest and grove, And valley have pillow'd the heads that we love, Have echoed their war cry and drank of their gore, I feel thou art sacred, and love thee the more. |
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THE POOR SOLDIER! |
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A Popular Camp-fire Song of the 62d Alabama Regiment (The Boy
Regiment.)
Little do rich people know,
What we poor soldiers undergo—
Called upon to take up arms,
To guard our country from all harm. |
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Break of day—the morning gun, Wakes the rebels—the fife and drum, Breaks a soldier's sweet repose— He tumbles out—puts on his clothes.
First sergeant rushes in and out: "Hurrah! hurrah, boys! do turn out;" Front and rear he forms his line— His 'coutrements and sword must shine.
"Eyes right!—steady!" is the word; Our captain then presents his sword— The sergeant jerks out his roll— Names are called—the absent told. |
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