The Skirmish Line

Wall, wall, ol’ boy, them p’inters up thar,

     Er hitchin’ erlong tuds noon;

We musn’ fergit the bonds uv war,

     An’ ‘at we mus’ shake purt’ soon.

But, Bill, I’ve be’n a questionin’ some

     In ‘at dull ol’ way uv mine,

W’ats bes’ ter dew if we hap’n ter cum

     In view uv the skirmish line.

Now here yeou be, yeou traitorous scamp,

     The on’y clus fren’ uv mine,

A-goin’ this day to a Southern camp,

     An’ me ter the Northern line.

It seems ez o’ it would surely bus’

     This ragged ol’ heart o’ mine,

But march apart we suttenly mus’,

     On a dee front skirmish line.

We’ve talked it over fer more’n a year,

     An’ b’lieve each other is right;

An’ now the hardes’ part comes in here,–

     We hain’t a tall ‘feared o’ fight,

O, no, not thet; but ol’ fren’ Bill,

     Suppose a bullet o’ mine

Should wissle acrost an’ lay yeour still,

     Upon yer own skirmish line?

Ah! Bill, there’s jes’ one way ter squeeze out,

     We know w’at we each is ter dew;

An’ w’en we ain’t on a reggerlar scout,

     We’ll shute ‘ith a death in view.

But, Bill, jes’ point yer ol’ musket high,

     An’ I’ll dew the same ‘ith mine;

We’ll shute, o’ course, but ‘ith keerless eye,

     W’en we’re on the skirmish line.

An’, Bill, yes shake, fer the hour is come,–

     Remember the times we’ve hed;

An’ don’t fergit w’at we lerned ter hum,

     An’ don’t fergit w’at I said.

An’ mebbie,– thar thar, ol’ comdrde, dear,–

     Thet w’en nex’ them eyes meet mine,

We’ll be a-marchin’ fur off frum here,

     Ware there ain’t no skirmish line.

Feb. 20, 1894

B. Courier,

April 3, ‘98