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I have felt it, the quiver of grim deedsWhile walking on the cannon field.Scarlet roses run like blood blooms,Emblems of those fighters killed.I don't cotton keeping slaves, y'all.Lord, how loathsome, vile, and fell.But to those who fought with brave gall,I lift my glass and a rebel yell.Did I hear a mockingbird From a copse of trees,Bringing to me Dixie measuresWafting on the breeze?Or did I discern something subtlerHaunting that landscape,Whistling in eternity,Still dressed in tattered gray?Well, I would not glorify war.It is a savage devil fever.But the bright flash of gunfire and swordIs as primal as this river.How did they fight? They fought quite sharp,A Southern glint hard in their eyes.SongtexteOn the 47th night, amid the smoldering ramparts,Vicksburg gave up a harrowing sigh.Did I hear a mockingbird From a copse of trees,Bringing to me Dixie measuresWafting on the breeze?Or was that song When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again On wan lips with ironyAnd melancholy without end? I could almost feel the fusilladesFrom those ironclads up to the steeps.I could almost feel old tears dropIn the dew that morning weeps. Aus Songtexte Mania