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My Suit Of Confederate Gray
I never was one of the careful kind
For saving and hoarding away;
If it were not so, I'd never have been
As poor as I am to-day
I have none of the care of the thrifts and keen,
When the wages of toil I could claim;
But ever to me the best of it all
Was the pleasure of spending the same.
But there's just one thing I would like to keep
As carefully hoard away
As the gold of the miser, and that one thing
Is my suit of Confederate Gray.
It was made in a Southern loom, of wool
From sheep that were Southern bred;
It was fashioned and sewed by the dearest hands
That ever used needle and thread.
It was handsome and bright when I put it on,
And proud as a prince was I
Of my wife, my suit, and the Cause in which
I was pledged to conquer or die.
I dreamed not of failure, thought not of defeat
As I turned to the conflict away;
Away from wife, mother, and children, and home,
In my suit of Confederate Gray.
I marched and paraded, I rested and drilled,
I ate and I slept night and day;
I skirmished and fought, advanced and fell back,
In my suit of Confederate Gray.
It was slashed and riddled by saber and ball,
It was soiled with dust from the road;
It was mottled all over with ghastly stains
Of my own and another's blood.
But it's fairer than silk and satin to me,
It is dearer than gold this day;
The treasure and pride of my heart and my life
Is my suit of Confederate Gray.
For after one battle came General Lee,
And reined in his steed where I lay
In a puddle of blood, between comrades slain,
In my suit of Confederate Gray.
"I'm sorry, my friend would god I had been
In your stead on this terrible day"
Were his words, and a tear from his eye fell down
On my suit of Confederate Gray.
The fields of our battles are covered with grain,
Where we fought is now smiling and gay;
But nothing can brighten or freshen again
My suit of Confederate Gray.
It can never more be as i saw it once,
As the hand of its fashioner fair;
Like the Southern heart, the rents and the scars,
And the gashes and stains are still there.
O it carries me back! I'm a soldier once more,
Light-hearted, and daring, and gay;
I'm a Southern rebel whenever I look
At my suit of Confederate Gray.
Put it on when my form all breathless and cold,
In the dust of the grave ye shall lay;
For I want to rest, till the Great Captain calls,
In my suit of Confederate Gray.
~~~Frannie H. Marr~~~
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