DO THEY MISS ME IN THE TRENCHES?

A VICKSBURG SONG.

Air—“Do They Miss Me At Home?”

Do they miss me in the trenches, do they miss me,
When the shells fly so thickly around?
Do they know that I’ve run down the hillside
To hunt for my hole in the ground?
The shell exploded so near me,
It seemed best for me to run;
And altho’ some laugh’d as I crawfished,
I could not discover the fun.
I often get up in the trenches,
When some Yank is near out of sight,
And fire a round or two at him,
To make the boys think I will fight;
But when the Feds commence shelling,
I run to my hole down the hill—
I’ll swear my legs never would stay there,
Altho’ all may stay there that will.
I’ll save myself thro’ the dread struggle,
And when the great battle is o’er,
I’ll claim my full rations of laurels,
As always I’ve done heretofore.
I’ll swear that I fought them as bravely
As the best of my comrades who fell—
And swear to all others around me,
That I never had fears of a shell.

BOYS! KEEP YOUR POWDER DRY.

Can’st tell who lose the battle, oft in the council-field?
Not they who struggle bravely, not they who never yield.
Chorus.—Not they who are determined to conquer or to die,
And hearken to this caution: Boys, keep your powder dry!
The foe awaits you yonder! he may await you here,
Have brave hearts, stand with courage; be strangers all to fear!
And when the charge is given, be ready at the cry:
Look well each to his priming—Boys, keep your powder dry!
Chorus.
Does a lov’d one home await you, who wept to see you go,
When with a kiss imprinted, you left with sacred vow—
You’d come again when warfare and arms are all laid by,
To take her to your bosom?—Boys, keep your powder dry!
Chorus.
Does a father home await you? a sister whom you love?
A mother who has reared you, and pray’d to Him above—
“Protect my boy, preserve him, and when the battle’s done,
Send to his weeping mother, bereft, her darling son!”
Chorus.

The name of Freedom calls you, the names of martyr’d sires,
And Liberty’s imploring, from all her hallow’d fires!
Can you withstand their calling? You cannot pass them by—
You cannot! now charge fiercely!—Boys, keep your powder dry.
Chorus.