Bandages On my Soul

Gettysburg shoes, we needed them bad

Whatever we could get, was better than we had

Half of us Killed in three useless tries

"Pickett's Charge" opened up our eyes

Old Jeb Stuart's got some good calvary

But, cut off from, the smarts of General Lee

Meade kept on moving between us and Baltimore

Couldn't up past him, to even up the score

Buford's carbines, can shoot seven times

They was making a mess, of our tired lines

Reynolds came flying, wouldn't let us pass

We got Johnny though, seen it in the glass

Cannons roared, smoke filled the air

Musket-balls fanning through my hair

Men all around me, down in the grip of death

I laid very still, just holding on to breath

I crawled through the lines, almost shot again

I knew the sentry though, it was my brother Ben

I cannot listen to more wounded cries

I will not look with these painful eyes

Upon the wrecks of humanity

Brought about... by you and me

Little red-head Mickey Stave

Saw Benny waiting for a Grave

My brotherhood is all gone

And the Union Army... marches on