One Night In Dixie

The road wore a coat, a thick blanket of snow Spring had not reached those Tennessee hills As midnight approached, three Rebs lie in a hole Near a slope where six brethren were killed In tattered gray suits and in dire need of shoes For the soles were exposing their feet Two whole days without food, a true skeleton crew The youngest was not quite sixteen Had a wound to his chest and his face was a mess None had slept since the sun disappeared And the moon overhead cast a light on the dead Frozen stiff with a bloody veneer The youth tried to speak through his chattering teeth His lips forming words without sound For the bite in the breeze caused his larynyx to freeze So he whispered a plea to the ground "Please don't let me die without tellin' me why What's the reason I'm fightin' this war Mama's tears never dry since we lost Dad and Cy And I'm all she has left from before" His sargeant said, "Son, I won't shoot if you run For our odds of survival are long But I will take your gun if you flee from the front It might help when my bullets are gone" "Naw, Sarge, it's okay, it's my duty to stay And coward's a hard brand to lose But I would like to say that if I had my way There would be no damned guns left to shoot "We all have our pride, but the dead from both sides Would advise us to seek a new peace Cause the ones who survive can return to their lives And forget all the horror they've seen" The sarge thought it best to leave bad news unsaid For the young lad had no way to know Of the nightmares ahead from the memories of death All the boy had to count on was hope Next morning at dawn came a bugler's song Which was silenced by shouts from the trees "It's all over, go home," the North's courier entoned "Grant accepted surrender from Lee!" The Rebs overheard and they cringed at the words Only briefly, for peace came to mind Then they noticed the birds, a fresh cheer in their chirp And they laughed until they realized Home was three weeks away if they marched hard all day Over gravel and cinder and root Too tired to dig graves, the sarge said, "Come this way" They approached their dead brethren for shoes Then some Yanks topped the rise and were shocked by the sight Of the Rebs lifting shoes from the dead "Hey, come on, now, you guys, we can loan you supplies We're at peace, won't you join us for bread" Descending the hill, they danced to old reels Most composed with a Southerner's pen Four years the blood spilled, half a million were killed But the State