Anonymous Americas

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Song Of A Brigadier

I wear a splendid uniform;
I ride a splendid nag;
I talk both loud and valiantly
Of Honor and the Flag;
But let the South be easy still,
Her soldiers need not fear.
Ne'er shot nor blow shall lay them low
While I'm a Brigadier.

I canter gaily through the streets,
Attended by my staff,
Unheeding vulgar little boys
Who hoot and stare and chaff;
And such a staff! all foreign names,
Quite wonderful to hear,
Plain Yankee boys aren't good enough
For such a Brigadier.

I've Baron This and Duke of That,
And Prince of 'Tother, too,
The people ask me, 'What on earth
I have for them to do?'
'Tis plain to all but vulgar minds,
I want a kindred sphere;
There's nought like title, blood and style,
To aid a Brigadier!

No bloody wounds or hurts for me
Perhaps I am a sham;
But Politics and Influence
Have placed me where I am;
I give my dinners, draw my pay,
Drink brandy, wine or beer,
And mean to have a jolly time
While I'm a Brigadier.

Investigations pass me by,
Committees raise no row,
No one expects that I will fight --
And faith, I don't know how!
I'm not for use, but ornament,
So each day I appear,
In buttons, braid, in gold arrayed --
A fancy Brigadier.

There are plenty in the field
Who really like to fight --
Give me money and good clothes,
And I'll be harmless quite,
Yet there is something on my mind,
That I can't quite make clear,
How can the Government afford
My style of Brigadier!

Poem Submitted: Monday, April 5, 2010

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