Something for the weekend. An Old Unreconstructed sung by the late, great Waylon Jennings.
It conveys well the spirit that allowed the ragged warriors of the Confederacy to maintain their struggle against the odds for four years.
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.
Well there aren’t as many left of us as rode out at the start,
And then there are the weary, weak, and body sad of heart.
We fought a fight to tell about and I am here to say,
I’d climb my horse and follow Marse to hell come any day.
