FullReads

And straight such matter he perused
That with the Guide he went apart.
The Hospital Steward’s turn began:
“Must squeeze this darkey; every tap
Of knowledge we are bound to start”
“Garry,” she said, “tell all you can
Of Colonel Mosby–that brave man.”

“Dun know much, sare; and missis here
Know less dan me. But dis I know–“
“Well, what?” “I dun know what I know”
“A knowing answer!” The hump-back coughed,
Rubbing his yellowish wool like tow.
“Come–Mosby–tell!” “O dun look so!
My gal nursed missis–let we go.”

“Go where?” demanded Captain Cloud;
“Back into bondage? Man, you’re free”
“Well, let we free!” The Captain’s brow
Lowered; the Colonel came–had heard:
“Pooh! pooh! his simple heart I see–
A faithful servant.–Lady” (a bow),
“Mosby’s abroad–with us you’ll go.

“Guard! look to your prisoners; back to camp!
The man in the grass–can he mount and away?
Why, how he groans!” “Bad inward bruise–
Might lug him along in the ambulance”
“Coals to Newcastle! let him stay.
Boots and saddles!–our pains we lose,
Nor care I if Mosby hear the news!”

But word was sent to a house at hand,
And a flask was left by the hurt one’s side.
They seized in that same house a man,
Neutral by day, by night a foe–
So charged his neighbor late, the Guide.
A grudge? Hate will do what it can;
Along he went for a Mosby-man.

No secrets now; the bugle calls;
The open road they take, nor shun
The hill; retrace the weary way.
But one there was who whispered low,
“This is a feint–we’ll back anon;
Young Hair-Brains don’t retreat, they say;
A brush with Mosby is the play!”

They rode till eve. Then on a farm
That lay along a hill-side green,
Bivouacked. Fires were made, and then
Coffee was boiled; a cow was coaxed
And killed, and savory roasts were seen;
And under the lee of a cattle-pen
The guard supped freely with Mosby’s men.

The ball was bandied to and fro;
Hits were given and hits were met;
“Chickamauga, Feds–take off your hat”
“But the Fight in the Clouds repaid you, Rebs”
“Forgotten about Manassas yet”
Chatting and chaffing, and tit for tat,
Mosby’s clan with the troopers sat.

“Here comes the moon!” a captive cried;
“A song! what say? Archy, my lad”
Hailing are still one of the clan
(A boyish face with girlish hair),
“Give us that thing poor Pansy made
Last Year.” He brightened, and began;
And this was the song of Mosby’s man:

Spring is come; she shows her pass–
Wild violets cool!
South of woods a small close grass–
A vernal wool!
Leaves are a’bud on the sassafras–
They’ll soon be full;
Blessings on the friendly screen–
I’m for the South! says the leafage green.

Robins! fly, and take your fill
Of out-of-doors–
Garden, orchard, meadow, hill,
Barns and bowers;
Take your fill, and have your will–
Virginia’s yours!
But, bluebirds! keep away, and fear
The ambuscade in bushes here.

“A green song that,” a seargeant said;
“But where’s poor Pansy? gone, I fear”
“Ay, mustered out at Ashby’s Gap”
“I see; now for a live man’s song;
Ditty for ditty–prepare to cheer.
My bluebirds, you can fling a cap!
You barehead Mosby-boys–why–clap!”

Nine Blue-coats went a-nutting
Slyly in Tennessee–
Not for chestnuts–better than that–
Hugh, you bumble-bee!
Nutting, nutting–
All through the year there’s nutting!

A tree they spied so yellow,
Rustling in motion queer;
In they fired, and down they dropped–
Butternuts, my dear!
Nutting, nutting–
Who’ll ‘list to go a-nutting?