"Poor Kitty Popcorn"

[John Hartwell]

https://www.loc.gov/item/ihas.200001817/
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Did you ever hear the story of the loyal cat? Meyow!​

Who was faithful to the flag, and ever follow'd that? Meyow!​

Oh she had a happy home beneath a southern sky,​

But she pack'd her goods and left it when our troops came nigh,​

And she fell into the column with a low glad cry, Meyow!​

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Round her neck she wore a ribbon—she was black as jet—Meyow!​

And at once a gallant claim'd her for a soldier's pet—Meyow!​

All the perils of the battle and the march she bore,​

Climbing on her master's shoulder when her feet were sore,​

Whisp'ring in his ear with wonder at the cannon's roar, Meyow!​

Emerging Civil War this week, takes a look at the Civil War Cat, under the unlikely title of:

What do Ukraine and the Union Army Have in Common?

We’ve all seen them–the images pouring out of our TVs and computers of the Ukrainian refugees heading toward who-knows-where, carrying armfuls of cats. It seems as if Ukraine is an enti…

emergingcivilwar.com

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[DBF]

Quite a "jaunty" little tune.

 

[donna]

Cute little tune.

 

[Lampasas Bill]

Cute tune, but a tragic ending:

Now the "cruel war is over" and the troops disband —Meyow!
Kitty follows as a pilgrim in the Northern land—Meyow!
Ah! But sorrow overtakes her, and her master dies,
While she sadly sits a gazing in his dim blue eyes,
Till by strangers driven rudely from the door, she cries, Meyow!

So she wanders on the prairie till she sees his form—Meyow!
Carried forth and buried roughly 'mid the driving storm—Meyow!
Oh! Her slender frame, it shivers in the northern blast,
As she seeks the sand mound on which the snow falls fast,
And alone amid the darkness there she breathes her last Meyow!

Poor Kitty Popcorn!
Buried in a snow drift now.
Never more shall ring the music of your charming song, Meyow!
Never more shall ring the music of your charming song, Meyow!

Those Victorians sure did love their pathos

 

[John Hartwell]

As recorded by Bobby Horton:

 

[Tennessee Union Gal]

Cute tune, but a tragic ending:

Now the "cruel war is over" and the troops disband —Meyow!
Kitty follows as a pilgrim in the Northern land—Meyow!
Ah! But sorrow overtakes her, and her master dies,
While she sadly sits a gazing in his dim blue eyes,
Till by strangers driven rudely from the door, she cries, Meyow!

So she wanders on the prairie till she sees his form—Meyow!
Carried forth and buried roughly 'mid the driving storm—Meyow!
Oh! Her slender frame, it shivers in the northern blast,
As she seeks the sand mound on which the snow falls fast,
And alone amid the darkness there she breathes her last Meyow!

Poor Kitty Popcorn!
Buried in a snow drift now.
Never more shall ring the music of your charming song, Meyow!
Never more shall ring the music of your charming song, Meyow!

Those Victorians sure did love their pathos

The Victorians certainly were obsessed with death. To misquote the Book of Common Prayer, "In the midst of death we are in life."

 

[donna]

It is tragic. Poor Kitty.