“A wig! go fetch it:—the lads need sleep;
They’ll next see Mosby in a sheep!
“Come, come, fall back! reform yours ranks—
All’s jackstraws here! Where’s Captain Morn?—
We’ve parted like boats in a raging tide!
But stay-the Colonel—did he charge?
And comes he there? ’Tis streak of dawn;
Mosby is off, the woods are wide—
Hist! there’s a groan—this crazy ride!”
As they searched for the fallen, the dawn grew chill;