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.