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,
Sometimes it meant a fight;
Sometimes it came in day time, and
Sometimes it came at night;
Sometimes 'twas to resist attack,
Sometimes 'twas for review-

But when it came, whate'er 'twas for,
We'd but one thing to do..

I see the march, o'er many miles,
In sunshine and in storm,
In midnight darkness, at mid-day,

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,
Now at our utmost pace.

I see the picket on his post,
Alone-the outmost guard;
Behind him sleeps the army, safe

While he keeps watch and ward.
His eye by day, his ear by night,

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,
And see our gallant men
Sweep forward o'er the battlefield-
Who could withstand us then?
I hear the rattling hoofs, the clang
Of scabbards, and the crack
Of carbines, and the cannon's roar,
And, sounds demoniac,

I hear the whiz of bullets, and
The scream of flying shell,

While from across the field comes back
The foe's defiant yell;

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,
And break and turn to run;
Ah! then a shout of joy goes up,

For we the field have won.

There's nothing in this world can give
The whole-souled, thorough joy
Of such a grand victorious charge-
Nothing at all, my boy.

I see the boys around the fires,
At morning and at night,
Cooking their coffee and their pork—

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,
Enjoy their evening smoke,
With chat about the day's events,

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
Ring out upon the air,

And see the boys start up in haste
And for a fight prepare;

I see them quickly mount, and ride
Direct toward the ford,

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,
And hear the carbines crack-

At times the boys are moving on
At times they're falling back.

I see a field on which the men
Prepare on foot to fight;
The horses to the rear are led
And taken out of sight;
The enemy comes down in force
And makes a brave attack;
We open fire along the line

And quickly drive them back;

Again they come, again we meet
Them with a steady fire;

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
On Appomattox hill,

Where hours we held the foe at bay,

Led on by "Little Phil,"

Till, hemmed in on all sides, the foe
Surrendered there and then,
And you can just believe, my boy,
That we were happy men.

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-
He knows that he must die,
And in a firm and manly tone
Bids me a kind " good bye";
He asks for water-I give him
A drink from this canteen-
He shuts his eyes, his life goes out,
His last fight he has seen.

I see the comrades by the score
Who yielded up their lives
For country's sake, and for her sake

Left home. and friends, and wives;
Their names are shining in our hearts
As brightly now as then-
O, ever honor them, my boy,
Above all other men.