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.