By A Growler
Let me whisper in your ear, sir,
Something that the South should hear, sir,
Of the war, of the war, of the war in Dixie;
A growing curse—a “burning shame,” sir,
In the chorus I will name, sir,
Of the war, of the war, of the war in Dixie.
The officers of Dixie alone, alone!
The honors share, the honors wear
Throughout the land of Dixie!
’Tis so, ’tis so, throughout the land of Dixie.
Swelling ’round with gold lace plenty,
See the gay “brass button” gentry;
Solomon in all his splendors
Was scarce arrayed like these “defenders.”
The officers of Dixie alone, alone!
The honors share, the honors wear
Throughout the land of Dixie!
’Tis so, ’tis so, throughout the land of Dixie.
In cities, sir, it is alarming
To see them ’round the hotel swarming;
And at each little “one-horse town,” sir,
See the “birds” how they “fly ’round,” sir.
The officers of Dixie alone, alone!
The honors share, the honors wear
Throughout the land of Dixie!
’Tis so, ’tis so, throughout the land of Dixie.
On the steamboat, in the cars, sir,
Deep respect is shown the “bars,” sir.
And if a “star” or two is spotted,
See how “the elephant” is courted.
The officers of Dixie alone, alone!
The honors share, the honors wear
Throughout the land of Dixie!
’Tis so, ’tis so, throughout the land of Dixie.
Should a grand soiree be given,
The “braided lions” take the even.
No, no! the privates are not slighted!
They can’t expect to be invited!
The officers of Dixie alone, alone!
The honors share, the honors wear
Throughout the land of Dixie!
’Tis so, ’tis so, throughout the land of Dixie.
The ladies! bless the darling creatures!
Quite distort their pretty features,
And say (I know you’ve seen it done, sir),
“They’ll have an officer or none,” sir.
The officers of Dixie alone, alone!
The honors share, the honors wear
Throughout the land of Dixie!
’Tis so, ’tis so, throughout the land of Dixie.
And if when death-shots round us rattle,
An officer is kill’d in battle—
How the martyr is lamented!
(This is right—we’ve not dissented).
The officers of Dixie alone, alone!
The honors share, the honors wear
Throughout the land of Dixie!
’Tis so, ’tis so, throughout the land of Dixie.
But only speak of it to show, sir,
Privates are not honor’d so, sir.
No muffled drum, no wreath of glory,
If one dies, proclaims the story.
The officers of Dixie alone, alone!
The honors share, the honors wear
Throughout the land of Dixie!
’Tis so, ’tis so, throughout the land of Dixie.
In Dixie’s land, in every way, sir,
“Fuss and feathers” “win the day,” sir,
For with all sexes, sizes, ages,
How the “gold lace fever” rages!
The officers of Dixie alone, alone!
The honors share, the honors wear
Throughout the land of Dixie!
’Tis so, ’tis so, throughout the land of Dixie.
List the moral of my song, sir;
In Dixie there is something wrong, sir.
As all that glitters is not gold, sir,
Read and ponder what I’ve told, sir.
The officers of Dixie alone, alone!
The honors share, the honors wear
Throughout the land of Dixie!
’Tis so, ’tis so, throughout the land of Dixie.
inviata da Bernart Bartleby - 27/8/2015 - 15:41
×
![]()
Testo trovato su “Southern War Songs”, a cura di W. L. Fagan, New York 1889.
Canzone di anonimo “growler” (uno che brontola, che si lamenta), certamente un soldatino sudista che se la prende con satira feroce contro l’inettitudine, la spocchia, la corruzione degli ufficiali e dei gallonati vertici dell’esercito ribelle sudista: “Date retta a me, tutti quei bottoni, tutte quelle mostrine, tutte quelle medaglie… Non è tutto oro quel che luccica!”