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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 11. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones). Search the whole document.

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Blue Ridge (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 19
that he made this song at Oakland, Alleghany Co. Md., to the tune of the guns of Antietam, which he could hear as he wrote. Dr. Palmer is a native of Baltimore, and a writer of no mean repute, and his letter seems to settle the authorship. He gives the following as the original and correct version of the song.] Come, stack arms, men; pile on the rails; Stir up the camp fire bright! No growling if the canteen fails; We'll make a roaring night. Here Shenandoah brawls along, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong- To swell the brigade's rousing song Of Stonewall Jackson's way. We see him now; that queer slouched hat Cocked o'er his eye askew; The shrewd, dry smile, the speech so pat, So calm, so blunt, so true! The Blue-light Elder knows them well; Says he: “That's Banks: he's fond of shell. Lord save his soul! we'll give him” —Well! That's Stonewall Jackson's way. Silence! Ground arms! Kneel all! Caps off! Ole massa's goina to pray. Strangle the fool! that dares to scoff; Atte<
Baltimore, Md. (Maryland, United States) (search for this): chapter 19
. John Williamson Palmer. [This famous camp song was originally published from what purported to be a Ms. found on the person of a dead Confederate soldier, and its authorship has never, so far as we know, been claimed by any one until recently Dr. John Williamson Palmer, in a letter to the New York World avows the authorship and claims that he made this song at Oakland, Alleghany Co. Md., to the tune of the guns of Antietam, which he could hear as he wrote. Dr. Palmer is a native of Baltimore, and a writer of no mean repute, and his letter seems to settle the authorship. He gives the following as the original and correct version of the song.] Come, stack arms, men; pile on the rails; Stir up the camp fire bright! No growling if the canteen fails; We'll make a roaring night. Here Shenandoah brawls along, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong- To swell the brigade's rousing song Of Stonewall Jackson's way. We see him now; that queer slouched hat Cocked o'er his eye askew; The s
Oakland (California, United States) (search for this): chapter 19
Stonewall Jackson's way. A song by Dr. John Williamson Palmer. [This famous camp song was originally published from what purported to be a Ms. found on the person of a dead Confederate soldier, and its authorship has never, so far as we know, been claimed by any one until recently Dr. John Williamson Palmer, in a letter to the New York World avows the authorship and claims that he made this song at Oakland, Alleghany Co. Md., to the tune of the guns of Antietam, which he could hear as he wrote. Dr. Palmer is a native of Baltimore, and a writer of no mean repute, and his letter seems to settle the authorship. He gives the following as the original and correct version of the song.] Come, stack arms, men; pile on the rails; Stir up the camp fire bright! No growling if the canteen fails; We'll make a roaring night. Here Shenandoah brawls along, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong- To swell the brigade's rousing song Of Stonewall Jackson's way. We see him now; that queer slouc
Maryland (Maryland, United States) (search for this): chapter 19
Stonewall Jackson's way. A song by Dr. John Williamson Palmer. [This famous camp song was originally published from what purported to be a Ms. found on the person of a dead Confederate soldier, and its authorship has never, so far as we know, been claimed by any one until recently Dr. John Williamson Palmer, in a letter to the New York World avows the authorship and claims that he made this song at Oakland, Alleghany Co. Md., to the tune of the guns of Antietam, which he could hear as he wrote. Dr. Palmer is a native of Baltimore, and a writer of no mean repute, and his letter seems to settle the authorship. He gives the following as the original and correct version of the song.] Come, stack arms, men; pile on the rails; Stir up the camp fire bright! No growling if the canteen fails; We'll make a roaring night. Here Shenandoah brawls along, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong- To swell the brigade's rousing song Of Stonewall Jackson's way. We see him now; that queer slouc
Westmoreland County (Pennsylvania, United States) (search for this): chapter 19
Stonewall Jackson's way. A song by Dr. John Williamson Palmer. [This famous camp song was originally published from what purported to be a Ms. found on the person of a dead Confederate soldier, and its authorship has never, so far as we know, been claimed by any one until recently Dr. John Williamson Palmer, in a letter to the New York World avows the authorship and claims that he made this song at Oakland, Alleghany Co. Md., to the tune of the guns of Antietam, which he could hear as he wrote. Dr. Palmer is a native of Baltimore, and a writer of no mean repute, and his letter seems to settle the authorship. He gives the following as the original and correct version of the song.] Come, stack arms, men; pile on the rails; Stir up the camp fire bright! No growling if the canteen fails; We'll make a roaring night. Here Shenandoah brawls along, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong- To swell the brigade's rousing song Of Stonewall Jackson's way. We see him now; that queer slouc
John Williamson Palmer (search for this): chapter 19
Stonewall Jackson's way. A song by Dr. John Williamson Palmer. [This famous camp song was originally published from what purported to be a Ms. found on the person of a dead Confederate soldier, and its authorship has never, so far as we know, been claimed by any one until recently Dr. John Williamson Palmer, in a letter to tDr. John Williamson Palmer, in a letter to the New York World avows the authorship and claims that he made this song at Oakland, Alleghany Co. Md., to the tune of the guns of Antietam, which he could hear as he wrote. Dr. Palmer is a native of Baltimore, and a writer of no mean repute, and his letter seems to settle the authorship. He gives the following as the originalDr. Palmer is a native of Baltimore, and a writer of no mean repute, and his letter seems to settle the authorship. He gives the following as the original and correct version of the song.] Come, stack arms, men; pile on the rails; Stir up the camp fire bright! No growling if the canteen fails; We'll make a roaring night. Here Shenandoah brawls along, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong- To swell the brigade's rousing song Of Stonewall Jackson's way. We see him now; that queer sl
S. J. Pope (search for this): chapter 19
es to scoff; Attention! it's his way. Appealing from his native sod, In forma pauperis, to God, “Lay bare thine arms! Stretch forth thy rod; Amen!” —that's Stonewall's way. He's in the saddle now. Fall in! Steady, the whole brigade! Hill's at the ford, cut off. We'll win His way out, ball and blade. What matter if our shoes are worn? What matter if our feet are torn? Quick step! We're with him before dawn. That's Stonewall Jackson's way. The sun's bright lances rout the mists Of morning; and, by George! Here's Longstreet struggling in the lists, Hemmed in an ugly gorge. Pope and his Yankees whipped before, ‘Bayonets and Grape!’ hear Stonewall roar. Charge, Stuart! Pay off Ashby's score In Stonewall Jackson's way! Ah, maiden! wait and watch, and yearn For news of Stonewall's band. Ah, widow! read with eyes that burn That ring upon thy hand. Ah, wife! sew on, pray on, hope on; Thy life shall not be all forlorn, The foe had better ne'er been born That gets in Stonew
J. E. B. Stuart (search for this): chapter 19
es to scoff; Attention! it's his way. Appealing from his native sod, In forma pauperis, to God, “Lay bare thine arms! Stretch forth thy rod; Amen!” —that's Stonewall's way. He's in the saddle now. Fall in! Steady, the whole brigade! Hill's at the ford, cut off. We'll win His way out, ball and blade. What matter if our shoes are worn? What matter if our feet are torn? Quick step! We're with him before dawn. That's Stonewall Jackson's way. The sun's bright lances rout the mists Of morning; and, by George! Here's Longstreet struggling in the lists, Hemmed in an ugly gorge. Pope and his Yankees whipped before, ‘Bayonets and Grape!’ hear Stonewall roar. Charge, Stuart! Pay off Ashby's score In Stonewall Jackson's way! Ah, maiden! wait and watch, and yearn For news of Stonewall's band. Ah, widow! read with eyes that burn That ring upon thy hand. Ah, wife! sew on, pray on, hope on; Thy life shall not be all forlorn, The foe had better ne'er been born That gets in Stonew
A. P. Hill (search for this): chapter 19
The Blue-light Elder knows them well; Says he: “That's Banks: he's fond of shell. Lord save his soul! we'll give him” —Well! That's Stonewall Jackson's way. Silence! Ground arms! Kneel all! Caps off! Ole massa's goina to pray. Strangle the fool! that dares to scoff; Attention! it's his way. Appealing from his native sod, In forma pauperis, to God, “Lay bare thine arms! Stretch forth thy rod; Amen!” —that's Stonewall's way. He's in the saddle now. Fall in! Steady, the whole brigade! Hill's at the ford, cut off. We'll win His way out, ball and blade. What matter if our shoes are worn? What matter if our feet are torn? Quick step! We're with him before dawn. That's Stonewall Jackson's way. The sun's bright lances rout the mists Of morning; and, by George! Here's Longstreet struggling in the lists, Hemmed in an ugly gorge. Pope and his Yankees whipped before, ‘Bayonets and Grape!’ hear Stonewall roar. Charge, Stuart! Pay off Ashby's score In Stonewall Jackson's way
Shenandoah (search for this): chapter 19
World avows the authorship and claims that he made this song at Oakland, Alleghany Co. Md., to the tune of the guns of Antietam, which he could hear as he wrote. Dr. Palmer is a native of Baltimore, and a writer of no mean repute, and his letter seems to settle the authorship. He gives the following as the original and correct version of the song.] Come, stack arms, men; pile on the rails; Stir up the camp fire bright! No growling if the canteen fails; We'll make a roaring night. Here Shenandoah brawls along, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong- To swell the brigade's rousing song Of Stonewall Jackson's way. We see him now; that queer slouched hat Cocked o'er his eye askew; The shrewd, dry smile, the speech so pat, So calm, so blunt, so true! The Blue-light Elder knows them well; Says he: “That's Banks: he's fond of shell. Lord save his soul! we'll give him” —Well! That's Stonewall Jackson's way. Silence! Ground arms! Kneel all! Caps off! Ole massa's goina to pray. Strangle<
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