I cannot listen to your words,
The land’s too far and wide
Go seek some happy northern girl
To be your loving bride
My brothers they were soldiers.
The youngest of the three
Was slain while fighting by the side
Of Gen’ral Fitzhugh Lee.
Hurrah! Hurrah! For the sunny South I say
Three cheers for the southern girl,
And the boy that wore the grey!
My lover was a soldier too,
He fought at God’s command.
A saber pierced his gallant heart
You might have been the man.
He reeled and fell but was not dead.
A horseman spurred his steed
And trampled on his dying head
You might have done the deed.
They left his body on the field
Who the fight that day had won.
A horseman spurred him with his heel
You might have been the one.
I hold no hatred in my heart,
No cold nor righteous pride,
For many a gallant soldier fought
Upon the other side.
But still I cannot take the hand
That smote my country sore,
Or love the foe that trampled down
The colors that she bore.
Between my heart and yours there runs
A deep and crimson tide.
My lover’s and my brother’s blood
Forbids me be your bride.