The Brass-Mounted Army (6 of 10 verses)
By an anonymous CSA soldier in Col. A. Buchel???s regiment
How do you like the army
The brass-mounted army
The high-falutin' army
Where eagle buttons rule
Oh soldiers I've concluded to make a little song
And if I tell no falsehood there can be nothing wrong
If any be offended at what I have to sing
Then surely his own conscience applies the bitter sting
Whiskey is a monster, and ruins great and small
But in our noble army, Headquarters gets it all
They drink it when there's danger, although it seems too hard
But if a private touches it they put him "under guard."
At every big plantation or Negro-holder's yard
Just to save the property, the general puts a guard
The sentry's then instructed to let no private pass
The rich man's house and table are fixed to suit the "brass."
I have to change this story, so beautiful and true
But the poor man and the widow must have a line or two.
For them no guard is stationed, their feces oft are burned
And property molested, as long ago you've learned.
Our generals eat the poultry, and buy it very cheap
Our colonels and our majors devour the hog and sheep;
The privates are contented (except when they can steal)
With beef and corn bread plenty to make a hearty meal
Sometimes we get so hungry that we're bound to press a pig,
Then the largest stump in Dixie we're sure to have to dig.
And when we fret, an officer who wears long-legged boots,
With neither judge nor jury, puts us on "double roots."