Who saved our city, when the foe
Swore in his wrath to lay it low,
And turned to joy our tears of woe?
Lew Wallace.
Who taught us how to cock the gun,
And aim it straight, and never run,
And made us heroes, every one?
Lew Wallace.
And told us how to face and wheel,
Or charge ahead with pointed steel,
While cannon thundered, peal on peal?
Lew Wallace.
Who, when all in bed did sleep,
About us watch and ward did keep,
Like watch-dog round a flock of sheep?
Lew Wallace.
Who made us all, at his commands,
With fainting hearts and blistering hands,
Dig in the trench with contrabands?
Lew Wallace.
Who would have led us, warriors plucky,
To bloody fields far in Kentucky?
But Wright said, No!—and that was lucky?
Lew Wallace.
Who sat his prancing steed astraddle,
Upon a silver-mounted saddle,
And saw the enemy skedaddle?
Lew Wallace.
And who, "wha hae wi' Wallace" fed,
On pork and beans and army bread,
Will e'er forget, when he is dead,
Lew Wallace?
Parson Brownlow.
The Knoxville Register thus laments the release of the Parson from the prison of that city: