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artars of Lee. Some think that these movements of Lee, And these raids from the army of Lee, Are only deceptions, the tricks and the show Of a Northern invasion, to cheat “Fighting Joe,” And then to push on, without pausing to rest, To a junction with Bragg to recover the West, By these bold Carthaginians of Lee. Some think that abandoning Lee, The Cotton State Legions of Lee, Care little for Richmond — that Davis & Co. Have packed up their traps and are ready to go To some safer refuge down South--that, in fine, In Georgia they next will establish their shrine, And leave old Virginia to Lee. But it is our impression that Lee, And this wonderful army of Lee, Are moving with Washington still in their eyes, Looming up as the grand and desirable prize Which will gain the alliance of England and France, And bring in John Bull to assist in the dance, Hand in hand with the army of Lee. 'Tis the last chance remaining to Lee, And the last to this army of Lee, And the last to Jeff Davis; for, <
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore), A conscript's epistle to Jeff Davis. (search)
hile an admiring world takes a brief gaze at your glorious and God-forsaken cause, pen for the happy conscipt a furlough without end? Do so, and mail it, if you please, to that city the windy, wandering Wigfall didn't winter in, called for short Philadelphia. The Etesian winds sweeping down the defiles of the Old Dominion and over the swamps of Suffolk come moaning through the pines of the Old State laden with the music and sigh themselves away into sweet sounds of silence to the far-off South. Your happy conscript would go to the far-away North whence the wind comes, and leave you to reap the whirlwind, with no one but your father the devil to rake and bind after you. And he's going. It is with intense and multifariously proud satisfaction that he gazes for the last time upon our holy flag — that symbol and sign of an adored trinity — cotton, niggers, and chivalry. He still sees it in the little camp on the Chowan, tied to the peak of its palmetto pole, and floating out over