Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/278

260 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 queer slouched hat, Cocked over his eye askew: The shrewd, dry smile; the speech so pat, So calm, so blunt, so true. The "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 Massa 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; we'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 before morn That s Stonewall Jackson s Way.