And now comes "boots and saddles"; ah! There's hurrying to and fro, And saddling up in busy haste For what we do not know; We take our arms, are ready, now, For whate'er may betide; Now comes the word, "Prepare to Mount!" Then "MOUNT!" and off we ride. Sometimes 'twas but a false alarm, But when it came, whate'er 'twas for, I see the march, o'er many miles, In weather cold and warm; Now over roads knee-deep in mud You ne'er saw such, my boy Now over fields, now through the woods, Now over corduroy! Now fording streams by night or day, Ofttimes obliged to swim; Now on a raid outside our lines, With all in fighting trim; Now on an all-night weary scout, The lurking foe to trace; Now at a walk, now at a trot, I see the picket on his post, While he keeps watch and ward. Are all alert, and none May come near him, nor cross his line Until their right they've shown. I hear the bugle sound the charge, I hear the whiz of bullets, and While from across the field comes back But what care we for foeman now, When "FORWARD!" is the word, And Colonel Smith rides at our head, With Victory" on his sword? I see the foe give way at last, For we the field have won. There's nothing in this world can give I see the boys around the fires, It was a pleasant sight; Our food was nothing extra, but Believe me when I tell I'd like to eat a meal these days I'd relish half as well. I see the boys, around the fires, With story, song and joke; Ah! happy hours were those; 'twas then Our sufferings we forgot, Nor thought that ere the morrow night, Some of us might be shot. I hear the picket shot at night And see the boys start up in haste I see them quickly mount, and ride Where stands the picket, on the watch, Who fired the shot we heard. Fearless, and brave, and calm, he stands, Watching with eager eye Across the stream, with carbine raised, Ready to do or die; He tells of rebels riding down Upon the other side, Of calling "HALT!" and then had fired, As they to cross had tried. Just then the moon lights up the scene, And on the further brink We see the cause of all this fuss, Taking a peaceful drink; The sergeant laughs, the men all laugh, The picket says "I swow!" 'Tis months before he hears the last Of shooting at a cow. I see the skirmish through the woods, And see the faces glow, As from behind the trees they peer To catch sight of the foe; I hear the balls "ZIP!" through the trees, At times the boys are moving on I see a field on which the men And quickly drive them back; Again they come, again we meet Still on they come, and once again We force them to retire; They charge and charge, until 'twould seem We must perforce give way, But pluckily we stand our ground, And win at last the day. I see a fight one April morn Where hours we held the foe at bay, Led on by "Little Phil," Till, hemmed in on all sides, the foe I see a comrade lying low Upon the field of strife, While from a wound he's just received, Is oozing out his life; He speaks a loving farewell word For wife and children dear, And offers up a prayer for them Which only God can hear; I speak a word of hope-in vain- I see the comrades by the score Left home. and friends, and wives; |