Song Of A Brigadier

I wear a splendid uniform;

I ride a splendid nag;

I talk both loud and valiantly

Of Honor and the Flag;

But let the South be easy still,

Her soldiers need not fear.

Ne'er shot nor blow shall lay them low

While I'm a Brigadier.

I canter gaily through the streets,

Attended by my staff,

Unheeding vulgar little boys

Who hoot and stare and chaff;

And such a staff! all foreign names,

Quite wonderful to hear,

Plain Yankee boys aren't good enough

For such a Brigadier.

I've Baron This and Duke of That,

And Prince of 'Tother, too,

The people ask me, "What on earth

I have for them to do?"

'Tis plain to all but vulgar minds,

I want a kindred sphere;

There's nought like title, blood and style,

To aid a Brigadier!

No bloody wounds or hurts for me

Perhaps I am a sham;

But Politics and Influence

Have placed me where I am;

I give my dinners, draw my pay,

Drink brandy, wine or beer,

And mean to have a jolly time

While I'm a Brigadier.

Investigations pass me by,

Committees raise no row,

No one expects that I will fight --

And faith, I don't know how!

I'm not for use, but ornament,

So each day I appear,

In buttons, braid, in gold arrayed --

A fancy Brigadier.

There are plenty in the field

Who really like to fight --

Give me money and good clothes,

And I'll be harmless quite,

Yet there is something on my mind,

That I can't quite make clear,

How can the Government afford

My style of Brigadier!