David R. “Poppa” Alexander

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY

I watch the horizon as the Yanks ride over the hill.
My thoughts are of my wife and family if me it they kill.
This war is so outrageous, what is it really all about?
To have started so sure now I have a really big doubt.

As I ride over the hill to where we know the Rebs will be.
What will happen to my wife and kids if the one killed be me?
Why are we fighting this dreadful, horrible war
So far away from home… maybe to see home no more?

Now they are getting close and our officers say to hold our fire,
Most of the officers are no older than me not much to admire.
We were told we were fighting to preserve our way of life,
I wonder if the Yanks are doing the same thing and I wonder if they feel the strife.

We are within a hundred yards of where they lay in wait.
The longer this war goes on the less I can hate.
Can these Rebs really be so different from me?
I pray I won’t bolt and run, but it would be so nice to be free.

They are so close we can hear their horse’s snort
Time till we fight is growing awfully short.
God be with me in this dreadful fight.
Please be with me and let me see the night.

We are so close they can’t help but know we are here
There they are darn they are so very near.
God be with me in the dreadful fight.
Please be with me and let me see the night.

Reb, here I come defend yourself or die.
That bullet was meant for you and there you lie.
A feeling of regret and one of pity I feel.
This isn’t really happening, it can’t be real.

Yank, I’m lying here, with a bullet in my chest
I still have breath and my bullet will do the rest.
Come closer Yank, so I have the strength to shoot you down
There, I’ve done it, I see you hit the ground.

Both stare at the other as they draw their last breath
Both were doing a job, both fighting till the death.
Found the next morning lying side by side
One Blue one Gray each filled with doubt but they died full of pride.