THE EMPTY SLEEVE
[By Dr. G. W. Bagby.]
[In Living Writers of the South, pages 28-29.]
Tom, old fellow, I grieve to see
That sleeve hanging loose at your side.
The arm you lost was worth to me
Every Yankee that ever died.
But you don’t mind it at all.
You swear you’ve a beautiful stump,
And laugh at the damnable ball.