The Poor Soldier! Camp-fire Song
A Popular Camp-fire Song of the 62d Alabama Regiment (The Boy Regiment.)
|Little do rich people know,|
What we poor soldiers undergo—
Called upon to take up arms,
To guard our country from all harm.
Break of day—the morning gun,
Wakes the rebels—the fife and drum,
Breaks a soldier’s sweet repose—
He tumbles out—puts on his clothes.
First sergeant rushes in and out:
“Hurrah! hurrah, boys! do turn out;”
Front and rear he forms his line—
His ’coutrements and sword must shine.
“Eyes right!—steady!” is the word;
Our captain then presents his sword—
The sergeant jerks out his roll—
Names are called—the absent told.
Our surgeon is a man of skill,
Gives the sick each day bread pills;
If his pills do not act well—
He swears and damns our souls to hell.
Would you know who wrote this song,
I will tell—it won’t take long;
It was composed by A. T. Height,
While walking post one rainy night.