Poems and Songs of the Civil War

The song from The Horse Soldiers is "I Left My Love". It was written by Stan Jones for the movie. He actually played US Grant in the movie.

Lyrics:

I left my love, my love I left a sleepin' in her bed.
I turned my back on my true love when fightin' Johnny Reb.
I left my love a letter in the hollar of a tree.
I told her she would find me, in the US Cavalry.

Hi-Yo! Down they go, there's so such word as can't.
We're riding down to hell and back for Ulysses Simpson Grant.

Hi-Yo Down they go, there's so such word as can't.
We're riding down to hell and back for Ulysses Simpson Grant.

I left my love, my love a sleepin' in her bed.
I turned my back on my true love when fightin' Johnny Reb.
I left my love a letter in the hollar of a tree.
I told her she would find me, in the US Cavalry, in the US Cavalry.

Hi-Yo! Down they go, there's so such word as can't.
We're riding down to hell and back for Ulysses Simpson Grant."
 
Stan Jones was born in 1914 in Arizona. He was an American songwriter and actor. He first wrote for the Disney Studios. He also composed songs for several John Ford movies, including "The Searchers", "Rio Grande" and "The Horse Soldiers".
.

He appeared in "The Horse Soldiers" as US Grant. He also was in several Westerns on TV. After working on "The Horse Soldiers", he returned to Disney Studios. He played the part of Wilson Brown in the Disney film, "The Great Locomotive Chase".

He died in Los Angeles in 1963. In 1997, he was posthumously inducted into the Western Music Hall of Fame.
 
In the film, "The Searches, John Ford's classic and for some his best film, the opening credits (portrayed in Playbill fort face) are displayed before a backdrop of an adobe brick wall. The words of the romantic Stan Jones ballard (sung by the Sons of the Pioneer) play during the credits, "What Makes A Man to Wander?". This song defines the central theme of the film: one man's wanderings and obsessive search.

The song:

"What makes a man to wander?
What makes a man to roam?
What makes a man leave bed and board
And turn his back on home?
Ride away, Ride away, Ride away."
 
Donna,
Thanks a lot for the link to "I left my love". I had to wait until I got home to listen to it and it was just as stirring as I remembered it. I very seldom use the computer at home but I enjoyed a lovely cruise around Youtube last night including the theme from "She Wore a Yellow Ribbon" and that part of the movie when the posse of troopers including the blacksmith try to remove Victor McLaglen as Quinncannon from the bar because he is "out of uniform". It is so innocently funny but is one of my favourite pieces of cinema in the tide of times.Also took the opportunity to revisit a clip involving a drum band from Switzerland called Top Secret at the Edinburgh Military Tattoo in 2006.If you get a chance have a look.They will blow your socks clean off you! Forgive me for straying from the thread's theme but I just thought I'd let you know.
Micky.
 
A great Christmas poem I just found is " By The Christmas Hearth" published in Harper's as the first Christmas of Peace, 1865.

"We keep our Christmas, so unlike
The Christmas of a year ago,
When in the camp at earllest dawn
The grimy-throated cannon woke our slumbers.

Ah! Then the smoke of battle hung,
Its sulphrous cloud our land above,
And bitter feud and hatred filled
Brave hearts that should have warmed with Love.

So sweet it seems at home once more
To sit with those we hold most dear,
And keep absence once again
To keep the Merry Christmas here."

This poem captured the simple power of this so old yet newfound holiday for the men who had given much, men who had learned to have faith in themselves and goodwill toward their foes.
 
I thought I would add to this thread as so many new folks on the forum. A great poem is "Charge of the Mule Brigade". It is an anonymous poem penned by a Union soldier after the battle at Wauhatchie, Tennessee on the night of October 28, 1863. Union General John Geary's troops held off the Confederates of Major General James Longstreet. Some 200 mules became terrified by the noisy battle and stampeded through the night into the center of Lieutenant General Wade Hampton's southerners. Deciding this was a cavalry attack, a good number of Hampton's troops panicked and fled. This humorous escapade inspired the poem based on Alfred Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade". The first stanza is:

"Half a mile, half a mile,
Half a mile onward,
Right through the Georgia troops
Broke the two hundred.
"Forward the Mule Brigade!
Charge for the Rebs!" they neighed.
Straight for the Georgia troops
Broke the two hundred."

From The Language of the Civil War by John D. Wright page 57.
 
Does this count as a Civil War poem? I love this
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
 
As I mentioned in another thread on Poetry , there are so many great poems and songs from the Civil War Era. This is thread I originally started in Oct. 2010, shortly after I joined the forum. I just re read it and thought nice to bring up as has so many good poems and songs (lyrics).
 
A Utilitarian View of the Monitor's Fight
by Herman Melville
(1819-1891)

Plain be the phrase, yet apt the verse,
More ponderous than nimble;​
For since grimed War here laid aside
His painted pomp, 'twould ill befit
Overmuch to ply​
The rhyme's barbaric symbol.​

Hail to victory without the gaud
Of glory; zeal that needs no fans​
Of banners; plain mechanic power
Plied cogently in War now placed --
Where War belongs --​
Among the trades and artisans.​

Yet this was battle, and intense --
Beyond the strife of fleets heroic;​
Deadlier, closer, calm 'mid storm;
No passion; all went on by crank.
Pivot, and screw,​
And calculations of caloric.​

Needless to dwell; the story's known.
The ringing of those plates on plates​
Still ringeth round the world --
The clangor of the blacksmiths' fray.
The anvil-din​
Resounds this message from the Fates:​

War shall yet be, and to the end;
But war-paint shows the streaks of weather;​
War yet shall be, but the warriors
Are now but operatives; War's made
Less grand than Peace,​
And a singe runs through lace and feather.​
 
Does this count as a Civil War poem? I love this
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
I love this one, too. My mom taught me to love poetry and this was one of the first she read to me.
 
"The Blue And The Gray" by Francis Miles Finch (1827-1907)

Francis Finch wrote this poem in remembrance of the dead of the American Civil War. He was inspired by the women's memorial association in Columbus, Mississippi who on April 25, 1866 tended the graves of Confederate and Union soldiers, "treating the dead as equals despite the lingering rancor of the war".

"By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the one,the Blue,
Under the other, the Gray

These in the robings of glory,
Those in the gloom of defeat,
All with the battle-blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment- day;
Under the laurel, the Blue,
Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers
Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment- day;
Under the roses, the Blue,
Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor,
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.



So, when the summer calleth,
On the forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day,
Wet with the rain, the Blue
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done,
In the storm of the years that are fading
No braver battle was won:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue,
Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding river be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment- day,
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray."
"The Blue And The Gray" by Francis Miles Finch (1827-1907)

Francis Finch wrote this poem in remembrance of the dead of the American Civil War. He was inspired by the women's memorial association in Columbus, Mississippi who on April 25, 1866 tended the graves of Confederate and Union soldiers, "treating the dead as equals despite the lingering rancor of the war".

"By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the one,the Blue,
Under the other, the Gray

These in the robings of glory,
Those in the gloom of defeat,
All with the battle-blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment- day;
Under the laurel, the Blue,
Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers
Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment- day;
Under the roses, the Blue,
Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor,
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.



So, when the summer calleth,
On the forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day,
Wet with the rain, the Blue
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done,
In the storm of the years that are fading
No braver battle was won:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue,
Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding river be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment- day,
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray."
Always loved this one, too. Had it memorized at one time.
 
I'm pretty sure the Texas boys sang "The Yellow Rose of Texas" incessantly, too.

Anyone know a song about Parrot shells? A terrific little group sang it at the Hood's Brigade seminar in Abilene last year, and I haven't run across it. Loved it.
Th 97th Regimental Band recorded the Parrot Shell song I believe you are talking about. I'm not home so I can't check on it for you now. Will try to look it up later.
 
"Listen to the Parrott Shell", song from the Civil War.

I found two references to this song.

1." A Southern Missile," a blog for Southern writers....
2."The Madcat Cafe", on lyrics of songs of the Civil War.

This song became very popular after the seige of Vicksburg. It is sung to the tune of "Listen to the Mocking bird".

Verse I

"Twas at the seige of Vicksburg,

Of Vicksburg, of Vicksburg,

"Twas at the seige of Vicksburg,

When the Parrott shells were whistlin' through the air!

Chorus:

Listen to the Parrott shells!

Listen to the Parrott shells!

The Parrott shells are whistlin' through the air!

Listen to the Parrott shells,

Listen to the Parrott shells,

The Parrott shells are whistling through the air."
That's the one I know.
 
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