Book Review: The Swan Thieves a double story of Art and Lost Loves

by Minnie Apolis

Elizabeth Kostova has crafted a complicated double plot. The one set in the modern-day is about an artist, Robert Oliver, who tries to attack a painting in the National Gallery of Art and is confined for psychiatric observation under the care of Dr. Andrew Marlow who happens to paint as a hobby. A second plot involves the 1890s artists with whom Oliver becomes obsessed.

The story is relayed to us by chapters seen from the point of view of the various characters: Dr. Marlow, Oliver's divorced wife Kate, Oliver's estranged girlfriend Mary, and the translated letters of the woman artist that Oliver became obsessed with. That artist was Beatrice de Clerval, a very accomplished painter who unfortunately gave up her career after becoming a mother. Oliver's wife need not have worried about this “other woman” – she lived in 1890s France. 

 

But both women who get involved with Oliver feel kind of creepy about his obsession with Ms. Clerval. Oliver gets into these streaks when he stays up late painting sketches and oils of this woman, over and over. 

 

I said that on one level this is a double love story – but on another level this is a detective story, with the aptly named Dr. Marlow hunting down the nature of Oliver's problem, the personal history with Kate and Mary, the identity of his love, where he saw her, who else did he talk to about the characters in that long-ago drama. I am less interested in the first than in the second level. 

 

My primary complaint with the novel is that while it is good, it could have benefited from a great deal of tight editing. It dawdled for long stretches in which I had to force myself to keep going just to reach the payoff. It wallowed in emotional details on the part of Kate and Mary and indeed all of the female characters both past and present, in a way that the male characters did not. Oh, please, this one just cries out for the Reader's Digest version -- please forgive me.

The Swan Thieves, by Elizabeth Kostova, Back Bay Books (Little, Brown and Company), New York – Boston – London, 2010, 561 pages not including study guide. ISBN: 978-0316065788

What's on Your Good-Luck Menu for New Year's Eve?

By Minnie Apolis

An assortment of foods generally are included in the New Year's menu in the folk belief that they will improve one's fortunes in the coming year. And in precarious times such as ours, that practice may increase, with folks figuring that they need all the extra luck they can get. 

 

The list of good-luck foods generally fall into two or three groups. 

 

The first is that the food resembles paper money. All salad greens fall into this group, as well as greens that are normally cooked, like collards, kale, and cabbage. 

 

A second group of foods resemble coins, or at least is a semicircular shape. Ideally you will have carrots that are cut into coins on your plate, but many other foods are acceptable or traditional representatives of money. The Italians traditionally eat a midnight dinner of lentils and sausage, called Cotechino con Lenticchie. The sausage is cut into chubby discs which are served on top of a bed of cooked coin-shaped lentils. 

Reportedly lentils have been eaten for luck since Roman times. Lentils are also considered good luck in Hungary, where they are preferred in a soup. 

 

Other foods are assumed to suggest coins, although frankly I think they are stretching a point. Those foods include black-eyed peas or the similar crowder peas, which are cooked up with rice in a dish called Hoppin' John. 

 

And to really stretch that point (of a resemblance to coins) you may eat any round fruit – oranges, in particular – or round breads like bagels and doughnuts. Remember the novel Joy Luck Club? The women always included money-attracting oranges at their luncheons. Spaniards and Portuguese eat a dozen grapes at the stroke of midnight. I'm sure I could  force myself to eat a dinner of doughnuts.

Some foods are thought to resemble mineral wealth, as in gold and silver. Silver is suggested by the scales of fish. Ideally one has a whole fish on the platter, to symbolize a good year from start to finish. So don't cut off the heads or tails before serving it on New Year's Eve. Germans, Poles and Scandinavians all prefer to eat pickled herring, instead. Eat it at the stroke of midnight. Reportedly the Chinese word for fish sounds like the word for abundance, another reason for eating it on New Year's. As for the whole fish stipulation, that is a little difficult but I am sure that little sardines will fill the bill. 

 

Gold is represented by anything yellowish or even orange – again, as in the orange fruit. Golden Delicious apples would be good. Cornbread is a traditional favorite for year-end feasts, too, exactly because of its golden color which suggests gold. You can increase the luck by including whole kernel corn in the bread, which represent nuggets of gold. Or cook up a batch of paella, whose rice is traditionally enhanced by the addition of threads of saffron for a golden color. Alternatively, you might elect to eat a curry dish instead. 

 

Still another group of foods symbolize long life or health. Most notable among them are long, unbroken noodles, which symbolize the lifespan. You might have Japanese soba noodles or some Italian spaghetti on the menu. Do not, repeat do not, break the noodles in the cooking process, to safeguard your health luck. 

 

Eat pork. The Orientals view pigs as a very smart, clever and therefore a sign that is usually successful in business, plus they always move forward. You have many options to choose from when it comes to pork products – sausages, bacon, a roast, ham, a whole roast suckling pig -- or even anything in the shape of a pig, such as cookies. 

 

Many traditions have a coin or something representing a coin baked into a cake. An almond often subs for the coin, and whoever gets the piece with the almond can make a wish and expect it to come true in the coming year. 

 

Here's wishing all of you a happy, healthy and prosperous new year in 2013!! 

 

Links to some recipes below:

Paella: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/easy-paella/ (Actually, Paella can be made using whatever meats you have in the frig – any sausage, chicken or pork, scallops or other fish or seafood, etc.)

Curried Chicken for 2: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/indian-chicken-curry-ii/

Hoppin' John: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/hoppin-john/

Jiffy Corn Casserole: http://www.cooks.com/rec/view/0,188,153171-231207,00.html

Soba Noodles with Kale: http://gastronomyblog.com/2012/03/31/healthy-soba-noodles-with-kale/

Cary Grant played unknown real-life role as WWII spy

by Minnie Apolis

One of the more interesting Hitchcock films, as far as those set in modern historical times and events, was Notorious, a rather tense thriller starring Cary Grant as a spy, the luminous Ingrid Bergman as the cat's paw, and the the versatile Claude Rains as the Nazi. How little its audiences knew that Grant was in fact a real-life spy and Nazi hunter from 1938 on, or how many parallels his spy career had with that 1946 film. 

 

In the summer of 1939, a Hollywood partnership was formed as a front for British Intelligence (MI6-- Military Intelligence 6). It was made up of Samuel Goldwyn, Douglas Fairbanks, Sr., Alexander Korda (the Hungarian producer), Walter Wanger and Korda's London Films. Cary Grant worked with this partnership to flush out Nazi sympathizers in Hollywood and its environs. (Another similar partnership was organized by Cecil B. DeMille at Paramount.)

Grant's chief contact with British intelligence was Noel Coward, the author of numerous plays and humorous songs. 

 

It may surprise some film buffs to learn that the major accomplishment of Cary Grant the Nazi hunter was to out the Australian actor, Errol Flynn, as a Nazi sympathizer. 

 

Flynn had been recruited early into the Nazi cause by a German friend, Hermann Erben, back in 1933 when they both were aboard a German steamer, the Friderun. Later in England, Flynn wrote letters in support of Hitler, including one where he stated he would like to see Hitler in London to take care of the Jews there. Such was Flynn's popularity and star power that he was able to associate openly with Erben, even in the midst of the Jewish community in Hollywood. Flynn and Erben traveled together to Mexico City, ostensibly to report for Collier's magazine on Fascism in South America, but they were really contacting the Nazi community in Mexico. 

 

Grant had turned in Flynn's name to authorities but told New York literary agent and friend Joseph Longstreth in 1941 that he was nonplused by the fact that nothing had been done about Flynn. Among other things, Flynn had arranged a rental car so that Erben could escape across the border into Mexico. This would have been a treasonous offense if legal proceedings had been initiated. Erben eventually made his way to China, where he was busy with the Nazi spy ring in the Orient.

Still, the question of why Flynn was not charged with various offenses such as violating the Trading With the Enemy Act is unclear. He may have been more useful as part of anti-Nazi propaganda in films, he may have been too well-protected, or MI6 may have decided that the spy you know will lead you to other spies that you don't know. 

 

In June of 1940, William Stephenson of British Intelligence arrived in New York under the cover as a passport control officer with offices at Rockefeller Center. He then began organizing a system of spies which became known as BSC, or British Security Coordination. This BSC became the focus of MI6 operations in both North and South America. 

One of the people Grant investigated was Barbara Hutton, who was in a messy divorce and trying to regain custody of a son from her German ex. Grant is presumed to be the one who intercepted her mail and forwarded it to BSC. Apparently Grant must have thought that Hutton passed muster because he later married her. 

 

One of the most interesting parallels between real life and reel life is seen in the movie Notorious. Like the character he played in that Hitchcock film, he had to learn to crack safes as part of his spy duties. According to Grant's one-time personal assistant Ray Austin, Grant confided some details of his spy career, including the safecracking and bringing back information hidden in his clothing. 

 

Other parallels reflect the fact of Nazi cells not only in Mexico and Argentina, but in much of Latin American – as Grant's character Devlin uses Bergman's character Alicia to infiltrate the circle of German industrialists in Rio. The menace conveyed by Claude Rains and Leopoldine Konstantin perfectly reflect the suspicious characters that Grant had unwittingly rubbed elbows with in his private life. He and Barbara Hutton had been friendly with Countess Dorothy de Frasso and her husband, not knowing that they were deeply involved in Nazi activities, and also with Count Cassina, another Nazi that he had gotten a studio job as a translator. 

 

It must have been incredibly tense on the set of the classic 1939 film Gunga Din, to co-star with the openly anti-Semitic Victor McLaglen, who had been discovered more than one beating up Jews in the Hollywood area. Some see the plot of the film Gunga Din as a thinly-disguised attack on Nazism, represented by the evil Indian guru and his supporters. 

 

Grant had already donated his salary for his next film that year, The Philadelphia Story, to British War Relief and the Red Cross; however, it was later learned that the publicist entrusted with the funds had stolen them. This did not keep Grant from donating his later salary from Arsenic and Old Lace to the war effort. 

 

It was most meaningful to Grant when the U.S. Army sent some officers to present him with an American flag as a token of thanks “for his work as a special agent, provider of funds for the war effort, and champion entertainer of the troops.”

SOURCE:

Higham, Charles and Roy Moseley, Cary Grant: The Lonely Heart, Avon Books (Hearst Corporation), New York, 1989, 380 pages not including index.

The Unknown Reindeer, Denny the Ditz, and Why He Did Not Make Santa's Team

by Minnie Apolis
[This is an original story by Minnie Apolis and it is copyrighted 2010.]

PART ONE

To be charitable, none of Santa's reindeer are very bright, so it was very unfair to single out Denny the Ditz as being a, um, simpleton. The fact that when he was told to take a hike, he actually went out the doors and took a walk in the woods should not be held against him. The fact that sometimes he pasted a clown nose on his snout should not be held against him, even tho Rudolf took it as a personal insult.

None of the reindeer were ever going to solve the problem of the missing mass of the universe. None of them were ever going to sniff out a frozen kid in the snow and get hailed as a hero. None of them was even going to remember their place in the harness, for Pete's sake, so we will just have to cut them a little slack here.

Don't get me wrong, they were all decent, hard-working four-legged folk who never went to school a day in their lives, so who am I to judge? I'm just saying that sometimes, lowered expectations can save everyone a lot of grief.

A Tale of Two Reindeer Buddies 
 
Denny the Ditz (everyone called him that) was just the average reindeer. He liked to cut up in front of the other little reindeer, when they all should have been paying attention to instructions. But he wasn't a BAD boy, not at all. He just wanted some attention, and I can't blame anyone for that.

So let me explain what Denny was like. He was of average size and build, maybe on the scrawny side. Liked dessert. Pulled the girls' pigtails. A very average kid.

Now McKenzie was a bit smarter than the average reindeer, though that isn't saying much. But he tried to look out for Denny, and keep him out of trouble. If Denny got upset because he couldn't understand something, McKenzie would sit by him till he calmed down, then show him how to do it.

This sounds so nice and simple. But when Denny was upset, he did not just sit down or scrunch up his face or even cry. He made a SCENE.

Take the day that the whole class of yearlings was first introduced to the harness.
This was such a simple lesson. All the class had to do was walk around the playground, hooked up to a long harness with each other. They did not even have to PULL anything, just propel their own body weight plus a few ounces of leather. Was that so difficult? You would have thought that the teachers expected them to haul the entire temple of Abu Simbel from Egypt to the North Pole, the way that Denny carried on.

He'd flop down and moan "Why are you doing this to me?" over and over. Then he'd get up, hobble forward a couple feet, and flop down and wail for another five or ten minutes. This could get annoying after oh, a whole afternoon of this. The only reason he moved forward at all was that the other reindeer were all pulling on the harness and half-dragging him along. He was just making more work for the rest of them, and so they all started to hate him.

Meanwhile MacKenzie would follow him around from flop to flop, and lie down next to him. He was a year older, so he was not anchored to the harness. This was very fortunate otherwise the harness would have gotten hopelessly tangled.

Though Denny and MacKenzie were both members of the same species, they could not be more unlike each other. As I have said, Denny was, shall we say, mentally challenged. Perhaps I am being harsh, and he was merely suffering from low self-esteem issues. 

Perhaps he came from a severely dysfunctional family, leaving him stressed by every demand made upon him. Perhaps he was even a victim of PTSD, possibly after a sleigh blew up, or some mass murderer visited the North Pole.

But MacKenzie was a sweet, kind, long-suffering soul who only tried to make everyone happy.

Learning to Fly - Not

This brings me to the current matter of trying to proceed with Denny's training as a reindeer, as a proper member of Santa's working herd. Eventually he got over his fear of being strapped in to the harness. But then had trouble getting the hang of flying.

Denny was hitched up with the other trainees in a harness. He had finally accepted these ropy strips of leather tying him to the other reindeer. He had given up pretending he was being hung; he used to hold the harness up from his neck, like a man pretending he was being hung by his necktie.

The next phase of training was to learn to fly. This is a bit similar to the scene in the first Harry Potter movie when the class is introduced to brooms for the first time, and most of the class cannot make the broom rise off the ground.

The reindeer ran around the training ground in circles for an hour. Some of the reindeer started to float right away. Some were jumping up as they ran, trying to get airborne. Then there was Denny. As luck would have it, he was behind another student who was a natural flier. And what was Denny doing? Denny was grabbing that reindeer's hooves and jerking them down to the ground.

"I DON'T WANT TO FLY UP," he yelled at the deer ahead of him, who was named Sandy. Sandy craned his head around to stare at this lunatic, Denny, who did not seem to know that they were born to fly.

"I LIKE having my feet on terra firma!!" Denny yelled. The other deer who were near enough to hear him started to giggle.

The teacher, Miss Deerfield, could not see or hear what was going on. She stomped over to where the line had stalled to a dead stop. "WHAT on earth is going on here? Did someone call a lunch break and forget to tell me about it?" she asked sarcastically.
(Sarcasm did not become her.)

Denny by this time was writhing on the ground in agonized fear of being airborne. Mackenzie had joined him at this point, and was sitting next to him, whining softly.
Denny wept a bucket of tears while declaiming how much he liked having his feet on 'terra firma' as he kept calling it. Actually they lived year-round on a layer of perma frost, which is NOT so 'firma' as you might think, but that is another matter.

"I'M GONNA DIE IF YOU DRAG ME UP IN THE AIR," he screamed. "IF WE WERE MEANT TO FLY, WE WOULDA BEEN BORN WITH WINGS AND FEATHERS," he continued.

"Stop that nonsense this instant," Miss Deerfield scolded him. After about an hour and a half of his hysterical flopping and crying, Miss Deerfield sent him to the school psychologist for evaluation and counseling.

His mother, Mrs. Derry Browning, received a letter from Miss Deerfield about it.

"Dear Mrs. Browning," the letter began.
"After several attempts to convince young Denny that reindeer do indeed fly, and it does not kill them, the school has decided that perhaps he might benefit from some counseling.
"I hope that you will sign the attached permission slip, which will allow the school psychologist to conduct an evaluation of young Denny's emotional preparedness for reindeer school.
"It is hoped that young Denny will overcome his mental block in regards to flying, and rejoin his fellow pupils in the class. I am sure that young Denny will make a fine addition to Santa's flight crew one day, and be a credit to the race of reindeer."
"Signed, Yours Truly, Miss Deerfield," it ended.

Well, you can imagine the consternation in the Browning household when Mr. and Mrs. Browning received this letter. They discussed it, of course, like well-adjusted couples do. And they decided that if that was what it took to help young Denny learn to be a proper reindeer, well then, they just had to let the counselor talk to him and hope for the best.
Denny Goes to the School Counselor

"How long have you had this fear of heights?" the counselor asked Denny.
(to be continued)

PART TWO

"How long have you had this fear of flying?" the doctor asked Denny, who was lying stiffly on the couch.

"I dunno, about as long as I've known that we were expected to fly. I mean, about as long as I knew that most of us reindeer can fly," Denny replied.

"I see," the doctor replied. "And how do your parents react when you panic at the thought of flying?"

"Well they mostly are embarrassed. Mom will say, 'oh for heavens sake, Denny, stop making such a big thing of it.' And dad just clears his throat and asks if I'm OK."

"I see. Does this make you feel better or worse, the way that your parents react?" the doctor asked.

"Well, I dunno. It doesn't seem to help, that's for sure."

"Have you ever had any bad things happen when you've flown, like when you were a baby?" the doctor inquired.

"Not that I remember. Do you want me to ask mom and dad about that?" Denny replied. He looked puzzled when he tried to remember back to being a baby. There was almost something there, but he couldn't bring up a memory.

"Well, you could ask them. Maybe they don't remember anything, either. But it's worth asking them or a grandmother, or whoever might recall. It's OK if nothing comes up," the doctor assured Denny.

Denny walked home, kicking a soccer ball all the way. He'd much rather play soccer than fly. So who passed a law, anyway, that all reindeer had to fly? It was un-American, is what it was.

Then he remembered. He's not American, anyway. He lived in Lapland.

OK, then. He'd emigrate to America, land of the free, home of the brave and all that jazz. He'd have to go to Ellis Island, and tell them that he left his native land on political grounds. He objected to the reindeer government that mandated all reindeer learn how to fly. That made him a political prisoner, didn't it? Right.

He would get an agent and sign a contract for a gazillion dollars to play soccer in the US of A. That would show 'em all back in fuddy-duddy Lapland. Flying reindeer are a dime a dozen. Reindeer that can play soccer, now you're talking.

His daydream was interrupted by an old lady. "You want to play soccer? Play in the street, alright already, instead of bouncing balls off little old ladies," she harrumphed. She was good at harrumphing.

Denny picked up his soccer ball and ran the rest of the way home. It was only a couple blocks.

Denny burst in the door and was greeted by the smell of spaghetti and meatballs, one of his favorite meals.

"Hi, mom," he said as he hugged her. He liked the smell of her and of her apron. The apron had smells of flour and bread and cookies she had baked. She was a good mom, he thought to himself.

"Go wash your hands before supper. Dinner will be on the table in about ten minutes," his mom told him.

Denny parked his soccer ball in the breezeway and trotted down the hall to the bathroom to wash up. As he passed the living room, he said 'hi, dad' to his father, who was parked in his chair, reading the paper, the Midnight Sun. "Hello son," he replied, "how was your day?"

Denny said nothing happened.

Denny started washing his hands and decided his face felt sticky, too. He lathered up his whole face and rinsed off. He decided he felt a lot better as he toweled himself dry.

Denny dug into the spaghetti and waited for the right moment to ask about any accidents in babyhood. When mom put dishes of spumoni in front of him and his dad, he decided now was the time.

"Mom, did anything ever happen to me when I was a baby? Like falling or something? Or getting dropped, stuff like that?" he asked.

"Gee, no, not that I can remember. I mean, you had the usual skinned knees and things like that, but nothing really unusual. Why do you ask?" mom replied.

"Oh, it's just the doc's idea that maybe I got the fear of flying from some accident in babyhood. That's all," he said glumly. He had kind of hoped that there'd be some grisly story about a tragic accident, that he'd been tossed off the roof by a mean older cousin and was lucky to survive. Or that he'd fallen off his mom's back when he was a toddler, while she was flying, and he'd fallen 200 feet before dad flew down to catch him before he would have smashed himself to smithereens on the hard frozen ground. A story that he could dramatize to good effect, and get lots of sympathy for.

Nuts. No such luck. He'd wasted all that work developing some really good sound effects to help tell the story.

"But what was funny was that when you were little, you could fly in your sleep," mom said.
"I did what?" Denny asked.

"You flew in your sleep. All the time. I'd tuck you into bed really tight, but it didn't help. You always floated up like you were dreaming of flying or something."

"I flew in my sleep??? What good is that, anyway? And did I outgrow it or what?" Denny was just full of questions. He remembered nothing about this.

His dad chimed in. "Well, you were about the best natural flyer I ever did see," dad boasted. "You could just about touch the ceiling when you were no bigger than a tadpole. All you needed work on was your landings."

"Oh, my, yes. Those landings were pretty rough," mom added. "Fortunately you only fell a few feet, so it wasn't going to hurt you any. But it was like you came to the end of the dream or whatever, and you just plum dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes." She had to chuckle at the memory, even though it was a bit nerve-racking at the time.

"I was the best natural flyer??? I was the best natural flyer???" Denny kept saying. He was stunned. Here he had always thought that he had absolutely NO talent for flying, whatsoever. And here dad tells him he was the best natural flyer he ever saw.

He needed some time to wrap his head around that. He thought about this new piece of information all evening, while watching cartoons, while doing homework, while brushing his teeth before bed, and lying in bed in the dark.

"I was the best natural flyer???" He just needed some more time to wrap his head around this. Maybe a year, maybe a decade. Twenty years, tops.

That night he had a dream. (Sorry if this sounds too hokey.) Anyway, that night he had a dream. It was the most awesome dream he'd ever had. He was flying. And he LIKED it. He LOVED it.

He flew all over the town, looking down on the school and city hall and churches and everything. And then he flew all over the world. He flew to the Bahamas and looked at the flamingos. He flew to New York and looked at the Statue of Liberty, up close and personal. He flew to jungles and looked at the monkeys and parrots. He flew everywhere, and everything looked so beautiful and amazing that he did not want to come back to his own bed.

When he woke up he felt incredible, like he had really flown all over the world and was a big hero like Charles Lindburgh. With a ticker tape parade and everything. He felt like Superman.

He hop, skipped and jumped all the way to school that morning. His jumps were like mini-flights, though. He leaped about twenty yards by the time he was at the school.
At his next visit to the doctor, he told about his babyhood propensity for flying while asleep.

"What I don't understand is, if I was such a natural at flying while I was a baby, why didn't I want to fly at all when I was old enough for school?" he asked the doc.

"Well, there could be many reasons for that. But I suspect the fact that the landings were so unpleasant for you, pretty well turned you off to flying. It's like you were programmed not to fly, by associating it with a negative result, such as the painful landings. That's what I would guess, anyway," he explained to Denny.

That made perfect sense to Denny.

Since he'd been bumped out of the flying class the previous semester, he had to start over in the following semester. Well, he passed with ahem, flying colors. (sorry)

He was scared in his first flying class back. His knees shook when he was concentrating on his liftoff. But he made his running start, and jumped, and only went about five feet. That was nothing. But on his next turn, he jumped for all he was worth, and got airborne. Airborne! Wow, did that feel terrific. He flew about a hundred feet and while his landing was a bit clumsy, he kept his feet.

After the first semester of flying lessons, he even joined the air polo team. It's like regular polo or water polo, except you fly while carrying a two-legged player. You can see Denny on the far left side of the winning all-conference championship team.

He also served in student government, and played flute in the band. He was a well-rounded student.

But because of the delay in passing reindeer flight education certification, he missed being picked for Santa's team. You had to be tracked early to get into that elite unit.

However, when he graduated he was hired by the Lapland Postal Service, where he served with distinction for many years. He held a perfect on-time delivery record, and he never lost a letter. Upon his retirement, he was awarded the Lapland Postal Service Golden Wings Medal of Honor, which came with a handsome pension.

With those funds he took care of his wife and aging parents, and even provided a scholarship for poor reindeer children to go on to school. His own grand-reindeer were of course sent to the best schools in Lapland, too, and some of them DID make it onto Santa's team. So there.

Copyright Minnie Apolis 2010

Ten Union Songs From the Civil War

 by Minnie Apolis

 
The music of the Civil War era was rich in melody, history and lyrics that evoke another era. There were songs for Northerners, songs for Rebs, songs for slaves, and some songs that transcended the tastes of any one group. Many songs were known and sung by both sides during the conflict, but we will try to concentrate on those that originated in the North. 
 
1) John Brown's Body, also known as Battle Hymn of the Republic, is really two songs that both used the melody of an old Methodist hymn. The abolitionist John Brown who tried to instigate a slave revolt at Harper's Ferry and failed, still provided a rallying cry for Northern troops. In November of 1861, Julia Ward Howe wrote the new lyrics that begin "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord". Eventually her version was printed as sheet music by a Boston printer. One hundred years later, Judy Garland sang Howe's version on her TV show after JFK was assassinated. Below are the lyrics to the John Brown version.

John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
But his soul goes marching on.
CHORUS: Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah, His soul goes marching on. 
 
He's gone to be a soldier in the Army of the Lord,
He's gone to be a soldier in the Army of the Lord,
He's gone to be a soldier in the Army of the Lord,
His soul goes marching on. 
 
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
His soul goes marching on. 
 
John Brown died that the slaves might be free,
John Brown died that the slaves might be free,
John Brown died that the slaves might be free,
His soul goes marching on.

The stars above in Heaven now are looking kindly down,
The stars above in Heaven now are looking kindly down,
The stars above in Heaven now are looking kindly down,
His soul goes marching on.

2) Better Times Are Coming (Stephen Foster)
Stephen Foster was an enormously successful composer of his time, who is probably the most famous son of Kentucky. Kentucky was a border state suring the Civil War and for a time had two state governments, one Confederate and one Union. After 1863, tho, the Union occupation put the Confederate government out of business. Anyway, for the purpose of this article, I am putting all of Foster's compositions into the Union list.

There are voices of hope, that are borne on the air,
And our land will be free, from its clouds of despair.
For brave men and true men, To battle have gone,
And good times, good times are now coming on.

CHORUS: Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah. Sound the news.
From the din of battle booming
Tell the people far and wide
That better times are coming.

Generals Lyons and Baker And Ellsworth now are gone,
But still we have some brave men, to lead the soldiers on.
The noise of battle will soon have died away,
And the darkness now upon us, will be turned to a happy today.

3) Marching Through Georgia (H C Work)
General Sherman believed in the necessity for a scorched earth policy to slice through the South's supply lines and force a surrender. He put fire to everything on his march to the sea (Atlanta to Savannah), spreading his troops sixty miles wide. It was the equivalent of the H-bomb at Hiroshima. Unfortunately no one could control the hangers-on who looted in the wake of the troops, stealing jewelry off ladies and searching for silverware.

Bring in the good old bugle, boys, we'll sing another song.
Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along.
Sing it like we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong,
While we were marching through Georgia.

Hurrah, hurrah, we bring the jubilee.
Hurrah, hurrah, the flag that makes you free.
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching through Georgia.

4) Hard Times Come Again No More (Stephen Foster)
Polite society did not even acknowledge the abject poverty in ordinary times, much less the displaced starving souls wandering the streets and countryside as a result of the war. So this song is remarkable for being directed at the people who begged for food and help. I detect something of Scarlett O'Hara's determined vow that she would "never be hungry again."

Let us pause in life's pleasures, and count its many tears,
While we all sup sorrow with the poor.
There's a song that will linger, forever in our ears,
Oh hard times come again no more.

Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard times hard times, come again no more.
Many days you have lingered, around my cabin door,
Oh hard times come again no more.

While we seek mirth and beauty, and music light and gay,
There are frail forms fainting at the door.
While their voices are silnet, their pleading looks will say,
Oh hard times come again no more.

Many days have you lingered, around my cabin door,
Oh hard times come again no more, 
oh hard times come again no more.

5) When Johnny Comes Marching Home
(Patrick S. Gilmore, aka Louis Lambert)
This Civil War era song was resurrected for World War I, and has been played at many a Fourth of July parade with few realizing how old it is.

When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give him a hearty welcome then, Hurrah! Hurrah!
The men will cheer, the boys will shout,
The ladies they will all turn out,
And we'll all feel gay When Johnny comes marching home. 
 
The old church bells will peal with joy, Hurrah! Hurrah!
To welcome home our darling boy, Hurrah! Hurrah!
The village lads and lassies say,
With roses they will strew the way,
And we'll all feel gay When Johnny comes marching home. 
 
Get ready for the Jubilee, Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give the hero three times three, Hurrah! Hurrah!
The laurel wreath is ready now,
To place upon his loyal brow,
And we'll all feel gay When Johnny comes marching home. 
 
Let love and friendship on that day, Hurrah! Hurrah!
Their choicest treasures then display, Hurrah! Hurrah!
And let each one perform some part,
To fill with joy the warrior's heart,
And we'll all feel gay When Johnny comes marching home.

6) Was My Brother In The Battle (Stephen Foster)
Modern ears may find this lyric a bit maudlin, as a woman searches the faces of soldiers returning from battle and asks if her brother has fallen. She assures us that if he did, that he surely must have been brave and undaunted by the enemy.

Tell me, tell me weary soldier, from the rude and stirring wars,
was my brother in the battle, where you gained those noble scars?
He was ever brave and valiant, and I know he never fled.
Was his name among the wounded, or numbered with the dead?

Was my brother in the battle, when the tide of war ran high?
You would know him in a moment, by his dark and flashing eyes.
Tell me, tell me weary soldier, will he never come again?
Did he suffer with the sounded, or die among the slain?

Was my brother in the battle, when the noble highland host
Were so wrongfully outnumbered, on the Carolina coast?
Did he struggle for the Union, mid the thunder and the rain,
Till he fell among the brave, on a bleak Virginia plain?

Oh I'm sure that he was dauntless, and his courage never lagged,
By contending for the honor of a dear and cherished flag.Was my brother in the battle, when the flag of Erin came,
To the rescue of our banner, and protection of our fame?

While the fleet from off the water, poured out terror and dismay,
Till the bold and wearying foe, fell like leaves of autumn day.
When the bugle called to battle, and the cannons deeply roused,
Oh I wish I could have seen him, draw his sharp and glittering sword. 
 
7) Vacant Chair (Henry Washburn and George F. Root)
Another rather maudlin tune is about the empty chair at holiday gatherings, formerly occupied by a soldier fallen in the war. The Willie in the song was Lt. John William Grout of the 15th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry, who died in Virginia in 1861. Even tho it was inspired by the death of a Yankee soldier, the song became popular in both the North and South.

We shall meet but we shall miss him, there will be one vacant chair.
We shall linger to carress him, while we breathe our evening prayer.
When a year ago we gathered, joy was in his mild blue eye.
But a golden chord is severed, and our hopes in ruin lie.

At our fireside, sad and lonely, often will the bosom swell,
At remembrance of the story, how our noble Willie fell.
How he strove to bear our banner, through the thickest of the fight,
And uphold our country's honor, in the strength of manhood's might.

True, they tell us wreaths of glory ever more will deck his brow,
But this soothes the anguish only, sweeping o'er our heartstrings now.
Sleep today o early fallen, in thy green and narrow bed,
Dirges from the pine and cypress, mingle with the tears we shed. 
 
8) Tramp Tramp Tramp (George F. Root)
Prisoner of war camps during the Civil War were about as lethal as the battlefields. Disease ran rampant in the crowded conditions, and sanitation was primitive.

In the prison cell I sit, thinking Mother, dear, of you,
And our bright and happy home so far away,
And the tears, they fill my eyes 'spite of all that I can do,
Tho' I try to cheer my comrades and be gay. 
 
CHORUS: Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching,
Cheer up, comrades, they will come,
And beneath the starry flag we shall breathe the air again
Of the free land in our own beloved home. 
 
In the battle front we stood, when their fiercest charge they made,
And they swept us off a hundred men or more,
But before we reached their lines, they were beaten back dismayed,
And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er. 
 
So within the prison cell we are waiting for the day
That shall come to open wide the iron door,
And the hollow eye grows bright, and the poor heart almost gay,
As we think of seeing home and friends once more. 
 
9) The Battle Cry of Freedom (George F. Root)
The phrase "rally around the flag" appears in this song, although I am sure it was not its first appearance.

Yes we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
And we'll rally from the hillside we'll gather from the plain,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom. 
 
(CHORUS) The Union forever, Hurrah boys, hurrah!
Down with the Traitor, Up with the Star;
While we rally round the flag, boys,
Rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.

We are springing to the call three hundred thousand more,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
And we'll fill the vacant ranks of our brothers gone before,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom. 
 
We will welcome to our numbers the loyal true and brave,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
And altho' he may be poor he shall never be a slave,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom. 
 
So we're singing to the call from the East and from the West,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
And we'll hurl the rebel crew from the land we love the best,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom. 
 
10) Taps (General Daniel Butterfield)
Taps is one of the most emotionally evocative songs ever written, and almost always without any of the lyrics. It began as an alternative to Lights Out, created by Gen. Butterfield with help from the bugler, Oliver Willcox Norton in 1862. I say created rather than written because Butterfield wrote a few notes on an envelope, and the bugler translated it into the music we know today.

It is similar to the British tune Last Post which is played at soldiers graves since 1885. One of the most haunting movie renditions of this tune was in the film From Here to Eternity, as Montgomery Clift played it for his late buddy, Frank Sinatra (Maggio).
Even I did not know that there were lyrics to Taps. Here they are.

Fading light dims the sight,
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.
From afar drawing nigh -- Falls the night.
Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky.
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.
Then good night, peaceful night,
Till the light of the dawn shineth bright,
God is near, do not fear -- Friend, good night.

You can read the story of Taps and a letter from the bugler Norton at the Arlington National cemetery website here: http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/taps.htm

RELATED ARTICLES:
Twelve Slave Songs from the Civil War:
http://minnieapolis.newsvine.com/_news/2009/01/19/2331360-twelve-slave-songs-from-the-civil-war?
last=1232498556&threadId=475279&commentId=4933357
Civil War Songs for Rebs:
http://minnieapolis.newsvine.com/_news/2009/01/21/2339893-civil-war-songs-for-rebs

Civil War Songs for Rebs

 by Minnie Apolis

The music of the Civil War era was rich in melody, history and lyrics that evoke another era. There were songs for Northerners, songs for Rebs, songs for slaves, and some songs that transcended the tastes of any one group. Let us look at some of the songs that the rebels knew and sang during this era. 
 
1) Dixie's Land, aka Dixie (D D Emmett, tho several sets of lyrics exist)
Dixie is first on any list of rebel songs. This has to be the most popular song ever penned by the minstrel performer Daniel Decatur Emmett.

Ironically, he was a Northerner. Emmett worked with a New York troupe called Bryant's Minstrels. The song was later introduced to the South at a revue in New Orleans in a Rockette-type number with 40 female dancers.

As you can imagine, it went over big. It was notably played at both Jefferson Davis and Abraham Lincoln inaugurals, and after the surrender by General Lee. The followiung lyrics are attributed to General Albert Pike of the Confederate Army.

Southrons, hear your country call you, Up, lest worse than death befall you!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Lo! all the beacon-fires are lighted, Let all hearts be now united!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Advance the flag of Dixie! Hurrah! Hurrah!
In Dixie's land we take our stand, and live or die for Dixie!
To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie!
To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie
Hear the Northern thunders mutter! Northern flags in South winds flutter!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Send them back your fierce defiance! Stamp upon the cursed alliance!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Chorus:
Fear no danger! Shun no labor! Lift up rifle, pike, and saber!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Shoulder pressing close to shoulder, Let the odds make each heart bolder!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
How the South's great heart rejoices At your cannon's ringing voices!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
For faith betrayed and pledges broken, Wrongs inflicted, insults spoken,
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Strong as lions, swift as eagles, Back to their kennels hunt these beagles!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Cut the unequal bonds asunder! Let them hence each other plunder!To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Swear upon your country's altar, Never to submit or falter--
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Till the spoilers are defeated, Till the Lord's work is completed!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Halt not till our Federation, Secures among earth's powers its station!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Then at peace and crowned with glory, Hear your children tell the story!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
If the loved ones weep in sadness, Victory soon shall bring them gladness.
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Exultant pride soon vanish sorrow; Smiles chase tears away to-morrow!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!

2) Aura Lee (George Poulton)
This 1861 song was happily resurrected as the Elvis Presley hit Love Me Tender. There are at least three sets of lyrics for Aura Lee, but because it was apparently first introduced by Hooley & Campbell's Minstrels, it may have undergone revisions to adapt to local audiences.

As the blackbird in the spring 'neath the willow tree,
Sat and piped I heard him sing, praising Aura Lee.
Aura Lee! Aura Lee! Maid of golden hair,
Sunshine came along with thee and swall-ows in the air.
Take my heart and take my ring, I give my all to thee.
Take me for eternity, dearest Aura Lee!
Aura Lee! Aura Lee! Maid of golden hair,
Sunshine came along with thee and swall-ows in the air.
In her blush the rose was born, 'twas music when she spoke.
In her eyes the light of morn, sparkling seemed to break.
Aura Lee! Aura Lee . . .
Aura Lee, the bird may flee the willow' golden hair,
Then the wintry winds may be blowing ev'rywhere.
Yet if thy blue eyes I see, gloom will soon depart
For to me, sweet Aura Lee, is sunshine to the heart.

3) Rebel Soldier (traditional)
A reb sings to Polly, his love he left behind, on a battlefield covvered with the fallen. There are hardly enough blankets for shrouds, he sings. This song really brings home how desperate were the straits that the Southern troops found themselves in.

Oh Polly, oh Polly, it's for your sake alone,
I've left my old father, my country, my home,
I've left my old mother, to weep and to mourn,
I am a rebel soldier, and far from my home.
The grapeshot and musket, and the cannons lumber loud,
It's many a mangled body, the blanket for the shroud,It's many a mangled body left on the fields alone,
I am a rebel soldier, and far from my home.
Here's a good old cup of brandy, and a glass of wine,
You can drink to your true love, and I'll lament and moan,
I am a rebel soldier, and far from my home.

4) Yellow Rose of Texas (anonymous)
This song was originally sung by a slave singing about his girl. The song then entered the collection of songs performed in minstrel shows, where a white preformer smeared burnt cork on his face and adopted the mannerisms and speech of a black person. This was done totally un-selfconsciously, similar to the way that Bill Dana adopted a Hispanic accent to play his comic character, Jose Jimenez.

At any rate, Rebel soldiers later adopted it and then added another verse at the end; the Texas Brigade was led to defeat under Confederate General Hood in Nashville in 1864. The retreating troops, led by General "Uncle Joe" Johnston, taunted Hood for his loss. So it a song known by Southerners, and by Northerners, too, who chanced to hear it at a minstrel show.

There's a yellow rose in Texas, That I am going to see,
No other soldier knows her, No soldier only me.
She cried so when I left her, It like to broke my heart,
And if I ever find her, We never more will part.
She's the sweetest rose of color, This soldier ever knew,
Her eyes are bright as diamonds, They sparkle like the dew,
You can talk about your dearest Mae and sing of Rosalee,
But the Yellow Rose of Texas is the only one for me.
Now I'm going southward, For my heart is full of woe,
I'm going back to Georgia, To find my Uncle Joe,
You may talk about your Beauregard, Sing of General Lee,
But the gallant Hood of Texas played hell in Tennessee,
But the gallant Hood of Texas played hell in Tennessee.

5) The Secesh aka Shiloh (unknown)
At the battle of Shiloh, 24,000 soldiers died out of 100,000 who took part. And at Gettysburg, 50,000 soldiers fell. The sea of injured and dying in the film Gone with the Wind was not made up for dramatic effect; this was a pretty fair portrayal of how the ground was watered with blood in the Civil War. The Secessionists were known as the Secesh in Tennessee.

I'll put my knapsack on my back, my rifle on my shoulder,
I'm going away to Shiloh, and there I'll be a soldier.
I'll put my knapsack on my back, my rifle on my shoulder,
I'm going away to Shiloh, and there I'll be a soldier.
I'll put my knapsack on my back, my rifle on my shoulder,
I'm going away to Shiloh, and there I'll be a soldier.

6) An Old Unreconstructed (traditional)
The South lacked factories to make enough guns and shot and other supplies to fight a war for as long as they did, but the soldiers got by on little food and resorted to fighting with swords when necessary.

I rode with old Jeb Stuart, and his band of Southern horse,
And there never were no Yankees, who could meet us force to force.
No they never did defeat us, but we never could evade,
Their dirty foreign politics, and cowardly blockade.
Well we hadn't any powder, and we hadn't any shot,
And we hadn't any money to buy what we ain't got.
So we rode our worn-out horses, and we ate on plain cornmeal,
And we licked em where we caught em, with Southern guts and steel.
We sunk the ship at Sumter, and we broke her plumb in two.
We showed them bully Yankees, just what we aimed to do.
At a little creek called Bull Run, we took their starry rag,
To wipe our horses down with, and I ain't here to brag.
There aren't as many left of us, who rode out at the start,
And then there are the weary, weak in body, sad of heart.
We fought a fight to be proud of and I am here to say,
I'll climb my horse and follow Morse, come hell, come any day. 
 
7) Lorena (Pastor Henry De Lafayette Webster to a melody by Joseph Philbrick Webster)
This song's lyrics had nothing to do with the war, but it was a favorite tune of Southern soldiers. It is said that many girls born after the war were named Lorena -- just like Michelle became a popular name after the Beatles recorded a song by that title.

Oh the years creep slowly by, Lorena, the snow is on the ground again.
The sun's low down in the sky, Lorena, the frost gleams where the flowers have been.
But the heart beats on us as warmly now, as when the summer days here nigh,
Oh the sun can never dip so low, to be down in Affection's sloudless sky.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena, since last I held that hand in mine.
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena, tho mine beat faster far than thine.
A hundred months twas flowery May, when up the hilly slope we'd climb,
To watch the dying of the day, and hear the distant church bells chime.
We loved each other then, Lorena, far more than we ever dared to tell.
And what might have been, Lorena, had our lovings prospered well.
Then tis part the years roll on, I'll not call up their shadowy form,
I'll say to them, lost years sleep on! Sleep on, heed life's pelting storms. 
 
8) The Southern Soldier Boy (Capt. G. W. Alexander)
This song was first performed in a Richmond theater in a production of The Virginia Cavalier. The soldiers in attendance carried the song back to the front with them.

Bob Roebuck is my sweetheart's name, he's off to the wars and gone.
He's fighting for his Nannie dear, his sword is buckled on.
He's fighting fo rhis own true love, his ofoes he does defy.
He is the darling of my heart, my Southern soldier boy.
Oh if in battle he was slain, I'm sure that I should die.
But I'm sure he'll come again, and cheer my weeping eye.
But should he fall, in this our glorious cause, he still would be my joy,
For many a sweetheart mourns the loss of a Southern soldier boy.
I hope for the best, and so do all Whose hopes are in the field.
I know that we shall win the day, for Southerners never yield.
And when we think, of those who are away, We'll look above for joy,
And I'm mighty glad, that my Bobby is a Southern soldier boy. 
 
9) Somebody's Darling (Marie Ravenal de la Coste and John Hill Hewitt)
The lyrics were written by le la Coste after witnessing the many wounded in the military hospitals. She sent her poem to a Savannah music publisher which sent it to a well-known Southern composer, John Hill Hewitt. He fashioned a melody for it. Too maudlin, even macabre, for modern tastes, but it was in keeping with Victorian sentiments of the time. Trivia: the song was used in the film Gone With The Wind.

Into the ward of the clean whitewashed walls, where the dead slept and the dying lay,
Wounded by bayonets, sabres and balls, Somebody's darling was borne one day.
Somebody's darling, so young and so brave, wearing still on his sweet yet pale face,
Soon to be hid in the dust of the grave, the lingering light of his boyhood grace.
CHORUS: Somebody's darling, somebody's pride,
Who'll tell her mother, where her boy died?
Matted and damp are his tresses of gold, kissing the snow of that fair young brow,
Pale are the lips of most delicate mould, somebody's darlin is dying now.
Back from his beautiful purple veined brow, brush off the wandering waves of gold,
Cross his white hands on his broad bosom now, Somebody's darling is still and cold.
Somebody's watching and waiting for him, yearning to hold him again to her breast.
Yet there he lies with his blue eyes so dim, and purple childlike lips apart.
Tenderly bury the fair, unknown dead, pausing to drop on his grave a tear,
Carve on the wooden slap over his head, somebody's darling is slumbering here. 
 
10) Bonnie Blue Flag
We are a band of brothers And native to the soil,
Fighting for the property We gained by honest toil;
And when our rights were threatened, The cry rose near and far --
"Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star!" 
 
CHORUS: Hurrah! Hurrah! For Southern rights hurrah!
Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star. 
 
As long as the Union was faithful to her trust,
Like friends and like brothers, Both kind were we and just;
But now, when Northern treachery, Attempts our rights to mar,
We hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag, That bears a single star.

First gallant South Carolina, Nobly made the stand,
Then came Alabama, Who took her by the hand.
Next quickly Mississippi, Georgia and Florida
All raised on high the Bonnie Blue Flag, That bears a single star.

Ye men of valor, gather round The banner of the right;
Texas and fair Louisiana, Join us in the fight.
Davis, our loved president, And Stephens statesman are;
Now rally round the Bonnie Blue Flag, That bears a single star.

And here's to old Virginia, The Old Dominion State,
Who with the young Confederacy At length has linked her fate;
Impelled by her example, Now other states prepare
To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag, That bears a single star.

Then cheer, boys, cheer; Raise the joyous shout,
For Arkansas and North Carolina Now have both gone out;
And let another rousing cheer For Tennessee be given,
The single star of the Bonnie Blue Flag Has grown to be eleven.

Then here's to our Confederacy, Strong are we and brave;
Like patriots of old we'll fight Our heritage to save.
And rather than submit to shame, To die we would prefer;
So cheer for the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star.

11) Goober Peas (goober peas are peanuts)
Finally a bit of levity about the humble food rations that reb troops relied on to get them through. Sometimes they had nothing but cornmeal, sometimes coffee, plus the protein of goober peas aka peanuts. Complaining about the food is something that is typical of every war and every soldier.

Sittin' by the roadside on a summer's day,
Chattin' with my messmates, passing time away,
Lying in the shadows, underneath the trees --
Goodness, how delicious, eating goober peas! 
 
CHORUS: Peas! Peas! Peas! Peas! Eating goober peas!
Goodness, how delicious, eating goober peas! 
 
When a horseman passes, the soldiers have a rule
To cry out at their loudest "Mister, here's your mule!"
But still another pleasure enchantinger than these
Is wearing out your grinders, eating goober peas! 
 
Just before the battle, the General hears a row;
He says "The Yanks are coming, I hear their rifles now"!
He turns around in wonder, and what do you think he sees?
The Georgia Militia, eating goober peas!

12) Oh I'm A Good Old Rebel (Major Innes Randolph)
Some think that this lyric was intended as a parody, but nevertheless it expresses the no-regrets stance
of many Southerners long after the war ended.

I hates the Yankee nation, and everything they do,
I hates the Declaration of Independence, too.
I hates the glorious Union, tis dripping with our blood,
I hates their strip'ed banner, I fit it all I could.

I rode with Robert E. Lee, for three years, thereabout.
Got wounded in four places, and I starved at Point Lookout.
I catched the rheumatism a-campin in the snow,
But a killed a chance of Yankees, and I'd like to kill some mo.

Three hundred thousand Yankees is a-stiff in Southern dust.
We got three hundred thousand, before they conquered us.
They died of Southern fever, and Southern steel and shot.
I wish they were three million, instead of what we got.

I can't take up my musket, and fight em now mo more.But I ain't gonna love em, now that is certain sure.
And I don't want no pardon for what I was and am.
I won't be reconstructed, and I do not give a damn. 
 
CHORUS: Oh I'm a good old rebel, now that's just what I am.
And for this Yankee nation I do not give a damn.
I'm glad I fought agin her, I only wish we'd won.
N I don't ask any pardon for anything I've done.

13) Southron's Chaunt of Defiance (Written by Mrs. Catherine Anne Warfield. Music by A.E. Blackmar)
My, my, those rebs just never give it up. PS - Mrs. Warfield was a Kentucky lady. Kentucky was a border state and for a time had two state governments, one Union and one reb. However, the Union troops occupied the state and the reb government was defunct by about 1863. According to one source, after 1863, the Confederate government existed only on paper.

You can never win us back; Never! Never! Tho' we perish in the track of your endeavor;
Tho' our corpses strew the earth, Smiling now on our birth, And tho' blood pollute each hearth, Now and ever! 
 
(CHORUS) You can never win us back; Never! Never! Tho' we perish in the track, Of your endeavor; 

Tho' our corpses strew the earth, 
Smiling now on our birth, 
And tho blood pollute each hearth, 
Now and ever! 
 
We have risen to a man, Stern and fearless; 
Of your curses, of your ban, We are careless.
Ev'ry hand is on its knife, Ev'ry gun is primed for strife. 
Ev'ry palm contains a Life, High and peerless. 
 
You have no such blood as ours For the shedding; 
In the veins of Cavaliers Was its heading!
You have no such stately men In you abolition den 
Marching through foe and fen, Nothing dreading! 
 
We may fall before the fire Of your legions, 
Paid with gold for murderous hire,
Bought allegiance; But for every drop you shed,
You shall have a mound of dead,
So that vultures may be fed In our regions! 
 
But the battle to the strong Is not given,
While the Judge of right and wrong Sits in Heaven
And the God of David still Guides the pebble in His will,
There are giants yet to kill, Wrongs unshriven! 
 
14) Stonewall Jackson's Way (John Williamson Palmer?)
There is a dispute about who wrote this song, which goes as follows. This poem was found in the coat of a dead soldier of the Stonewall Brigade after a battle in the Shenandoah Valley. Palmer says he wrote the poem in September, 1862, but a music publisher says the song was found on the body of a Confederate sergeant after the first battle of Winchester on May 25, 1862. The author is officially listed as anonymous.

Come, stack arms, men. Pile on the rails, 
Stir up the campfire bright; No matter if the canteen fails,
We'll make a roaring night. Here Shenandoah brawls along, 
There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong
To swell the brigade's rousing song Of "Stonewall Jackson's way." 
 
We see him now--the old slouched hat Cocked o'er his eye askew--
The shrewd, dry smile--the speech so pat, So calm, so blunt, so true.
That "Blue-Light Elder" knows 'em well. Says he, "That's Banks; he's fond of shell--
Lord save his soul! We'll give him"...well, That's "Stonewall Jackson's way." 
 
Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off! Old Blue Light's going to pray;
Strangle the fool that dares to scoff; Attention; it's his way!
Appealing from his native sod, In forma pauperis to God.
"Lay bare thine arm; stretch forth thy rod; Amen." That's "Stonewall's way." 
 
He's in the saddle now! Fall in! Steady, the whole brigade!
Hill's at the ford, cut off! He'll win, His way out, ball and blade.
What matter if our shoes are worn? What matter if our feet are torn?
"Quick step--we're with him ere the dawn!" That's "Stonewall Jackson's way." 
 
The sun's bright glances rout the mists Of morning, and, by George!
There's Longstreet struggling in the lists, Hemmed in an ugly gorge,
Pope and his Yankees whipped before. "Bayonet and grape!" hear Stonewall roar,
"Charge, Stuart! Pay off Ashby's score In Stonewall Jackson's way." 
 
Ah, maiden! wait and watch and yearn, For news of Stonewall's band!
Ah, widow! read with eyes that burn, That ring upon thy hand!
Ah, wife! sew on, pray on, hope on, Thy life shall not be all forlorn--
The foe had better ne'er been born, That gets in Stonewall's way.

[See also: Twelve Slave Songs From the Civil War at http://minnieapolis.newsvine.com/_news/2009/01/19/2331360-twelve-slave-songs-from-the-civil-war?last=1232498556&threadId=475279&commentId=4933357 ]

Twelve Slave Songs from the Civil War

 by Minnie Apolis 
 
The music of the Civil War era was rich in melody, history and lyrics that evoke another era. There were songs for Northerners, songs for Rebs, songs for slaves, and some songs that transcended the tastes of any one group. Let us look at some of the songs that the slaves knew and sang during this era. 
 
1) First on the list has to be Follow The Drinking Gourd.
Obviously this song is meant to teach slaves how to find their way North and meet up with someone with the underground railroad by following the Big Dipper (drinking gourd) as it pointed to the North Star. But it also refers to a peg-legged former sailor who supposedly taught them this song and marked out the trail along the river with his peg leg, or in some versions, by painting the outline of a foot and a circle on the tree trunks along the way. This story, according to the John Lomax book American Ballads & Folk Songs, can be found in the records of the Anti-Slavery Society. The directions say to follow the Tombigbee till it ends, then walk over a hill to the Tennessee River and follow it till that one joins the Ohio. They were to cross the frozen Ohio on foot in winter.

Follow the drinking gourd, follow the drinking gourd,
For the old man is awaiting for to take you to freedom,
If you follow the drinking gourd.
The riverbank will make a very good road, the dead trees show you the way,
Left foot, peg foot, traveling on, Follow the drinking gourd.
The river ends between two hills, Follow the drinking gourd,
There's another river on the other side, Follow the drinking gourd.
Where the great big river meets the little river, Follow the drinking gourd,
The old man is awaiting for to take you to freedom,
If you follow the drinking gourd. 
 
2) Lincoln and Liberty was a song made popular in the 1860 election by a performing family named the Hutchinsons who happened to be very pro-abolition. The melody was taken from an older tune called "Rosin the Bow" and was borrowed yet again for "Love Me, I'm a Liberal." Even though blacks did not yet have citizenship or the right to vote, I include this song because it was a tribute to Abraham Lincoln.

Hurrah for the choice of the nation, Our chieftain so brave and so true,
We'll go for the great reformation, for Lincoln and liberty, too.
We'll go for the son of Kentucky, The hero of hoosierdom through,
The pride of the suckers so lucky, For Lincoln and liberty, too.
The up with the banner so glorious, The star-spangled red, white and blue,
We'll fight till our banner's victorious, For Lincoln and liberty, too.
Come all you true friends of the nation, Attend to humanity's call,
Come aid in the slaves' liberation, And roll on the liberty ball.
And roll on the liberty ball, And roll on the liberty ball,
Come aid in the slaves' liberation, And roll on the liberty ball.We'll finish the temple of freedom, And make it capacious within,
That all who seek shelter may find it, Whatever the hue of their skin.
Success to the old-fashioned doctrine, That men are created all free,
And down with the power of the despot, Whatever his stronghold may be. 
 
3) Give Us a Flag was written by an anonymous soldier of the all black Massachusetts 54th Regiment, Company A. They were cut down unmercifully in cannon fire in the attempt by the 54th to take Fort Wagner, on Morris Island near Charleston, South Carolina. The courage of the regiment on this date, July 18, 1863 is captured in the excellent film Glory starring Matthew Broderick, Denzel Washington and Morgan Freeman.

Oh Fremont he told them when the war it first begun,
How to save the Union and the way it should be done,
But old Kentucky swore so hard and Abe he had his fears,
Till every hope was lost but the colored volunteers.
Oh give us a flag, all free without a slave,
We'll fight to defend it as out fathers did so brave,
The gallant Comp'ny A will make the rebels dance,
And we'll stand by the Union if we only have a chance.
Old Jeff says he'll hang us if we dare to meet him armed,
A very big thing, but we are not at all alarmed,
For he first has got to catch us before the way is clear,
That is "what's the matter" with the colored volunteer.
So rally, boys, rally, let us never mind the past.
We had a hard road to travel, but our day is coming at last,
For God is for the right, and we have no need to fear,
The Union must be saved by the colored volunteer. 
 
4) Yellow Rose of Texas was originally sung by a slave singing about his girl. The song then entered the collection of songs performed in minstrel shows, where a white preformer smeared burnt cork on his face and adopted the mannerisms and speech of a black person. This was done totally un-selfconsciously, similar to the way that Bill Dana adopted a Hispanic accent to play his comic character, Jose Jimenez. At any rate, soldiers later adopted it and then added another verse at the end; the Texas Brigade was led to defeat under Confederate General Hood in Nashville in 1864. The retreating troops, led by General "Uncle Joe" Johnston, taunted Hood for his loss. So it a song known by Southerners, and by Northerners, too, who chanced to hear it at a minstrel show.

There's a yellow rose in Texas, That I am going to see,
No other soldier knows her, No soldier only me.
She cried so when I left her, It like to broke my heart,
And if I ever find her, We never more will part.
She's the sweetest rose of color, This soldier ever knew,
Her eyes are bright as diamonds, They sparkle like the dew,
You can talk about your dearest Mae and sing of Rosalee,
But the Yellow Rose of Texas is the only one for me.
Now I'm going southward, For my heart is full of woe,
I'm going back to Georgia, To find my Uncle Joe,
You may talk about your Beauregard, Sing of General Lee,
But the gallant Hood of Texas played hell in Tennessee,
But the gallant Hood of Texas played hell in Tennessee.

5) Run Mourner Run refers to slaves as mourners. Their only way out of slavery was either death or running away. Each line is repeated four times.

If I had two wings, Bright angels above --
I would fly away to the kingdom, Bright angels above --
You gotta escape for your life, Bright angels above --
CHORUS: Oh run, run, mourner run, Bright angels above (four times).

6) Johnny Roach was written by the prolific Dan Emmett, who penned several songs for minstrel shows. It is sung from the point of view of an escaped slave who pines for his home in the South. Maybe it seems impossible for us now to imagine a slave longing to return to the plantation, but the tug of home on one's heart is strong no matter how great the hardship one actually suffered.

To Canada old John was bound
All by de railroad underground;
He's got no clothes—he's got no "tin"
He wishes he was back agin.
Gib me de place called "Dixie's Land,"
Wid hoe and shubble in my hand;
Whar fiddles ring an' banjos play,
I'll dance all night an' work all day.

7) Wade in the Water was originally a gospel song with masked instructions on how to run away. Escapees were instructed to wade in the water to try to evade the bloodhounds tracking them. Lyrics here are from the gospel version, not the later soul version. It has the typical call-and-response structure.

Wade in the water (children), Wade in the water
Wade in the water, God's gonna trouble the water
If you don't believe I've been redeemed
God's gonna trouble the water.
I want you to follow him on down to Jordan stream
(I said) My God's gonna trouble the water.
You know chilly water is dark and cold
(I know my) God's gonna trouble the water.
You know it chills my body but not my soul
(I said my) God's gonna trouble the water.
(Come on let's) wade in the water, Wade in the water (children)
Wade in the water, God's gonna trouble the water.
Now if you should get there before I do
(I know) God's gonna trouble the water.
Tell all my friends that I'm comin' too
(I know) God's gonna trouble the water.
Sometimes I'm up lord and sometimes I'm down
(You know my) God's gonna trouble the water.
Sometimes I'm level to the ground
God's gonna trouble the water,
(I Know) God's gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water (children)Wade out in the water (children)
God's gonna trouble the water.

8) Swing Low, Sweet Chariot is a gospel song that masked references to the Underground Railroad. (Another one os The Gospel Train.) The specific place referred to in this song is Ripley, a station of the Underground Railroad where runaways were welcomed. The town is on top of a hill by the Ohio River, which the slaves had to cross. Crossing is not easy in winter, over the ice, and just about impossible in summer given the powerful current. So slaves had to wait for help making the crossing, and meanwhile they might be picked up by bounty hunters or law enforcement. So the song says "I looked over Jordan and what did I see, A band of angels coming after me."

[Chorus] Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home
I looked over Jordan and what did I see, Coming for to carry me home
A band of angels coming after me, Coming for to carry me home
Sometimes I'm up and sometimes I'm down, Coming for to carry me home
But still my soul feels heavenly bound, Coming for to carry me home
The brightest day that I can say, Coming for to carry me home
When Jesus washed my sins away, Coming for to carry me home.
If I get there before you do, Coming for to carry me home
I'll cut a hole and pull you through, Coming for to carry me home
If you get there before I do, Coming for to carry me home
Tell all my friends I'm coming too, Coming for to carry me home.

9) John Brown's Body, also known as Battle Hymn of the Republic, is really two songs that both used the melody of an old Methodist hymn. The abolitionist John Brown who tried to instigate a slave revolt at Harper's Ferry and failed, still provided a rallying cry for Northern troops. In November of 1861, Julia Ward Howe wrote the new lyrics that begin "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord". Eventually this version was printed as sheet music by a Boston printer. One hundred years later, Judy Garland sang Howe's version on her TV show after JFK was assassinated. Below are the lyrics to the John Brown version.

John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
But his soul goes marching on.
CHORUS: Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah, His soul goes marching on.
He's gone to be a soldier in the Army of the Lord,
He's gone to be a soldier in the Army of the Lord,
He's gone to be a soldier in the Army of the Lord,
His soul goes marching on.
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back,
His soul goes marching on.
John Brown died that the slaves might be free,John Brown died that the slaves might be free,
John Brown died that the slaves might be free,
His soul goes marching on.
The stars above in Heaven now are looking kindly down,
The stars above in Heaven now are looking kindly down,
The stars above in Heaven now are looking kindly down,
His soul goes marching on.

10) Slavery Chain Done Broke at Last is a spiritual song that dates to around 1865 and commemmorates the end of slavery. The former slave thanks God for hearing his prayers for freedom, and pledges to praise God till he dies.

Slavery chain done broke at last, broke at last, broke at last,
Slavery chain done broke at last, Going to praise God till I die
Way down in-a dat valley, Praying on my knees
Told God about my troubles, And to help me ef-a He please
I did tell him how I suffer, In de dungeon and de chain,
And de days were with head bowed down, And my broken flesh and pain.
I did know my Jesus heard me, 'Cause de spirit spoke to me
And said, 'Rise my child, your chillun, And you shall be free.
'I done 'p'int one mighty captain, For to marshall all my hosts
And to bring my bleeding ones to me, And not one shall be lost.'
Slavery chain done broke at last, broke at last, broke at last,
Slavery chain done broke at last, Going to praise God till I die.

11) No More Auction Block For Me --
I neglected to include this song in my first version of this article, even though it is included in the soundtrack release from the PBS documentary The Civil War by Ken Burns. You might also be able to dig up an older rendition of the song by the magnificent Paul Robeson, who recorded many spirituals, folk songs, and work songs in addition to classical material. This song is in a traditional call-and-response form, with the congregation or chorus repeating No more, no more, or, Oh yes, oh yes, my Lord.

No more auction block for me, No more, no more,
No more auction block for me, Many thousand gone,
No more auction block for me, No more, no more,
No more auction block, whiplash for me, Many thousand gone.
And oh the one thing, that we did wrong, No more no more,
Staying in the wilderness, A day too long, No more, no more.
An oh the one thing that we did right, Oh yes oh yes,
Was the day that we began to fight, Oh yes, oh yes, my Lord.
And it's no more auction block for me, No more, no more, no more,
Auction block for me, Many many thousand gone.

12) Oh Freedom
Oh Freedom was a rather militant spiritual song that expressed the desire of the black Union soldiers to die as free men.

Oh freedom, Oh freedom, Oh freedom over me.And before I'll be a slave, I'll be buried in my grave,
And go home to my Lord and be free.

RELATED ARTICLES:
Civil War Songs for Rebs:
http://minnieapolis.newsvine.com/_news/2009/01/21/2339893-civil-war-songs-for-rebs
Ten Union Songs From the Civil War
http://minnieapolis.newsvine.com/_news/2009/01/22/2343772-ten-union-songs-from-the-civil-war