Sunday Evening Music #1

I rode with ol’ JEB Stuart and his band of Southern horse
There never were no Yankees who could beat us force to force
No they never did defeat us, but we never could evade
Their dirty foreign politics and cowardly blockade

Well we hadn’t any powder, and we hadn’t any shot
We hadn’t any money to buy what we ain’t got
So rode our worn out horses and we ate old plain cornmeal
And we licked em where we caught em, with Southern guts and steel

Well we sunk their ship at Sumter, and we broke it plumb in two
And we showed them bully Yankees just what we aimed to do
At a little creek called Bull Run, we took their starry rag
To wipe our horses down with, and I ain’t here to brag

Well there aren’t as many left of us as rode out at the start
And then there are the weary weak and bodies sad of heart
We fought a fight to tell about, and I am here to say
I’d climb my horse and follow Marse to Hell come any day

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