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Come, stack arms,
men, pile on the rails, stir up the campfire bright;
No matter if the
canteen fails, we'll make a roaring night.
CHORUS:
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
old slouched hat cocked o'er his eye askew--
The shrewd, dry
smile--the speech so pat--so calm, so blunt, so true.
That "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."
(CHORUS)
Silence! ground arms!
kneel all! caps off! Old Blue Light's going to pray;
Strangle the fool
that dares to scoff; attention; it's his way!
Appealing from his
native sod, “Hear us, Almighty God,
"Lay bare thine arm;
stretch forth thy rod; amen." That’s
Stonewall Jackson’s way.
(CHORUS)
He's in the saddle
now! Fall in! Steady, the whole brigade!
Hill's at the ford,
cut off! He'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 ere the dawn!" That's
"Stonewall Jackson's way."
(CHORUS)
The sun's bright
glances rout the mists of morning, and, by George!
There's Longstreet
struggling in the lists, hemmed in an ugly gorge.
Pope and his Yankees
whipped before-- "Bayonet
and grape!" hear Stonewall roar,
"Charge, Stuart! Pay
off Ashby's score in Stonewall Jackson's way."
(CHORUS)
Ah, maiden! wait and
watch and yearn for news of Stonewall's band!
Ah, widow! read with
eyes that burn that ring upon thy hand!
Ah, wife! sew on,
pray on, hope on, thy life shall not be all forlorn--
The foe had better
ne'er been born, that gets in Stonewall's way.
(CHORUS)
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