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.
