Thursday, March 15, 2012

One more Confederate poem

War Lyrics: and Songs of the South
By Kentucky (pseudo.) 1866

Epistle to the Ladies.
By W.E.M., of Gen. Lee’s Army.

Ye Southern maids and ladies fair,
            Of whatsoe’r degree,
A moment stop – a moment spare –
And listen unto me.

The summer’s gone, the frosts have come,
            The winter draweth near,
And still they march to fife and drum –
            Our armies ! do you hear ?

Give heed then to the yarn I spin,
            Who says that it is coarse ?
At your fair feet I lay the sin,
            The thread of my discourse

To speak of shoes, it boots not here;
            Our Q.M’s, wise and good,
Give cotton calf-skins twice a year
            With soles of cottonwood.

Shoeless we meet the well-shod foe,
            And bootless him despise;
Sockless we watch, with bleeding toe,
            And him sockdologies !

Perchance our powder giveth out,
            We fight them, then, with rocks;
With hungry craws we craw-fish not,
            But, then, we miss the socks.

Few are the miseries that we lack,
            And comforts seldom come;
What have I in my haversack ?
            And what have you at home ?

Fair ladies, then, if nothing loth,
            Bring forth your spinning wheels;
Knit not your brow – but knit to clothe
            In bliss our blistered heels.

Do not you take amiss, dear miss,
            The burden of my yarn;
Alas ! I know there’s many a lass
            That doesn’t care a darn.

But you can aid us if you will,
            And heaven will surely bless,
And Foote will vote to foot a bill
            For succouring our distress.

For all the socks the maids have made,
            My thanks, for all the brave;
And honoured be your pious trade,
            The soldier’s sole to save.

I'm always on the hunt for knitting songs or poems from 1861-1865. 

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