True to the Gray by Pearl Rivers

I cannot listen to your words, the land is long 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 gallant Fitzhugh Lee!

They left his body on the field (your side the day had won),
A soldier spurned him with his foot—you might have been the one;
My lover was a soldier—he belonged to Gordon’s band;
A sabre pierced his gallant heart—your’s might have been the hand.

He reel’d and fell, but was not dead, a horseman spurr’d his steed
And trampled on the dying brain—you may have done the deed;
I hold no hatred in my heart, no cold, unrighteous pride,
For many a gallant soldier fought upon the other side.

But still I cannot kiss the hand that smote my country sore,
Nor love the foes that trampled down the colors that she bore;
Between my heart and yours there rolls a deep and crimson tide—
My brother’s and my lover’s blood forbid me be your bride.

The girls who lov’d the boys in gray—the girls to country true,
May ne’er in wedlock give their hands to those who wore the blue.