One morning, one morning, one morning in May, I heard a poor soldier lamenting and say, I heard a poor soldier lamenting and mourn: I am a rebel soldier and far from my home. It's grape-shot and musket and the cannons lumber loud. There's a many a mangled body, a blanket for their shroud, There's a many a mangled body left on the field alone. I am a rebel soldier and far from my home. I'll eat when I'm hungry and drink when I am dry. If the Yankees don't kill me I'll live until I die, If the Yankees don't kill me and cause me to mourn. I am a rebel soldier and far from my home. I'll build me a castle on some green mountain high, Where the wild geese can see me as they do pass me by, Where the wild geese can see me and hear my sad mourn: I am a rebel soldier and far from my home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MOMENT by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE IMPOSSIBLE INDISPENSIBILITY OF THE ARS POETICA by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOREST FLOWERS by ROBERT FROST YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE SAY by JAMES GALVIN TO JOHN BROWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |