The Valiant Conscript
How are you, boys? I’m just from camp,
And feel as brave as Cæsar;
The sound of bugle, drum, and fife
Has raised my Ebenezer.
I’m full of fight, odds shot and shell,
I ’ll leap into the saddle,
And when the Yankees see me come,
Lord, how they will skedaddle!
Hold up your head, up, Shanghai, Shanks,
Don’t shake your knees and blink so,
It is no time to dodge the act;
Brave comrades, don’t you think so?
I was a ploughboy in the field,
A gawky, lazy dodger,
When came the conscript officer
And took me for a sodger.
He put a musket in my hand,
And showed me how to fire it;
I marched and countermarched all day;
Lord, how I did admire it!
With corn and hog fat for my food,
And digging, guarding, drilling,
I got as thin as twice-skimmed milk,
And was scarcely worth the killing.
And now I’m used to homely fare,
My skin as tough as leather,
I do guard duty cheerfully
In every kind of weather.
I’m brimful of fight, my boys,
I would not give a “thank ye”
For all the smiles the girls can give
Until I’ve killed a Yankee.
High private is a glorious rank,
There’s wide room for promotion;
I ’ll get a corporal’s stripes some day,
When fortune’s in the notion.
’T is true I have not seen a fight,
Nor have I smelt gunpowder,
But then the way I ’ll pepper ’em
Will be a sin to chowder.
A sergeant’s stripes I now will sport,
Perhaps be color-bearer,
And then a captain—good for me—
I ’ll be a regular tearer.
I’ll then begin to wear the stars,
And then the wreaths of glory,
Until the army I command,
And poets sing my story.
Our Congress will pass votes of thanks