Stanton Allen, in his memoir,
Down in Dixie: life in a cavalry regiment in the war days, from the Wilderness to Appomattox (1893), waxed poetic in an elegant
OWED TO THE MULE.
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through "Virginny" mud-holes passed
A mule who bore upon his back
The soldiers' rations of hard tack
And salt pork!
"Make way!" the hungry soldiers cried.
"Make way!" — they surely would have died
But for the coming of the beast,
Who brought the boys a royal feast
From way back!
"E-yah-hah! yah-hah!" brayed the mule.
The soldiers cursed him, as a rule,
But when the grub came they would say:
"Hurrah! the mule has saved the day.
God bless him!"
Then in the thickest of the fight
The mule was brought both day and night,
With ammunition in his pack
To save our boys from falling back
For cartridges!
The mule amid the fire and smoke
Stood firm — sometimes the mule was "croaked”
By rebel bullet — in that hell;
He faced the fire and rebel yell
Unflinching!
The years roll on, but strange to say,
While every dog must have his day,
The army mule no praise receives.
He's dying with old age and heaves,
A veteran!
A quarter century has gone
Since Boys in Blue have heard the song
Of army mules — but all will say.
The mule helped whip the Boys in Gray-
"E-yah-hah!"