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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 108 (search)
33. I fights mit Sigel! by grant P. Robinson. I met him again, he was trudging along, His knapsack with chickens was swelling: He'd “Blenkered” these dainties, and thought it no wrong From someng slowly around he smilingly said, For the thought made him stronger and bolder: “I fights mit Sigel!” The next time I saw him his knapsack was gone, His cap and canteen were missing, Shell, shra He said, as a shell from the enemy's gun Sent his arm and his musket a “kiting:” “I fights mit Sigel!” And once more I saw him and knelt by his side, His life-blood was rapidly flowing; I whispere, “tell them! oh! tell them I fights” -- Poor fellow! he thought of no other-- “I fights mit Sigel!” We scraped out a grave, and he dreamlessly sleeps On the banks of the Shenandoah River; His er We placed a rough board at the head of his grave, “And we left him alone in his glory,” But on it we marked ere we turned from the spot, The little we knew of his story-- “I fights mit