THE CAPTURE OF SEVENTEEN
OF COMPANY H, FOURTH TEXAS CAVALRY.
Air—“Wake Snakes and Bite a Biskit.”
|’Twas early in the morning of eighteen sixty-three,|
We started out on picket, not knowing what we’d see;
The bridge we knew was floating. If the Yankees should pursue,
We knew we should be captured if running we’d not do.
To stop and give them battle, we never tho’t of it—
The shot at us did rattle, so we tho’t we’d better “git,”
The captain tried to rally us, and so did brave young Linn;
And Rader, too, with pistol drawn—Fenly next “put in.”
Rainbolt, too, with angry words attempts to stop our flight,
They tell us yet to stop with them, and give the Yankees fight:
They saw they could not stop us—to try it would be vain—
So their only chance of safety was to give their steeds the rein.
Now this portion of my story will cause your hearts to bleed,
It tells of those who halted while going at full speed.
First came Billy Eddins, with musket shot in thigh,
He was told by the Yankees, “surrender now or die!”
Then came poor Johnny Burns, with sabre cut in head,
And near by him, and wounded, stood the still unconquer’d Red;
Then Oscar, and June Harris stood near in sore affright—
Then came the young De Marcus, in none the better plight.
Yarborough, too, with chalky cheek, was walking down the road—
The Yankees had to some extent relieved him of his load;
His overcoat he had pulled off, and in his shirt he stood,
In woeful plight, he was a sight,—his face contain’d no blood.
Then came the lively Lilly, with teeth hard set in wrath,
To think that some had pass’d him by, but pick’d him up at last!
Then Burnes came, and Maynard, then Graham and Jim Baugh—
The gallant Bone was found alone, and bro’t back from afar.
But of the handsome Parton I must not fail to tell;
His graceful way of riding you all remember well;
But to-day the fates concluded to stop his wild career,
So from his horse was jolted by a musket from the rear.
The gallant Hill, and dashing Dees, were spurring for dear life,
When a Yankee rode with perfect ease upon them with a knife;
“Surrender, now, my pretty pair; and do it quickly too,
Stop at once and turn your mare, or I will run you through.”
They stopp’d at once, and faced about and to the rear did start;
And back they came, with legs quite lame, with faint and sinking heart:
And there they saw a crowd who were gobbled up that day—
They were the twain that made seventeen, and we were marched away.