Collected by Merlin Mitchell
Transcribed by Irene Carlisle
Sung by Doney Hammontree
Bethel Grove, Arkansas
June 16, 1950
Reel 48, Item 2
The Battle of Wilson's Creek
My name it is Joe Stiner; I came from a master band;
I am a full-blood Dutchman, and that there is no sham;
I came off to this country because the land was free,
And here I make much money; oh, that's the land for me I
One day as I was drinking mine glass of lager beer,
Thinking of the freedom of this country here,
They all cried out "Disunion! Disunion!" mighty loud,
And they makes us walk together in a very big Dutch crowd.
And then they say we've got to fight, this Union for to save;
Mine God ! Mine Heavenly Father ! What a country that we have!
The very first thing that we done was to take old General Frost;
Kill women and children 'long the road, through the country
that we crossed.
And when we got to Raleigh, we made the rebels run;
We made them git in every style; I tell you 'twas no fun;
(later sang "I tell you it was a lot of fun")
And then we came to Springfield, and there we stopped and stayed
Until our general, Lyons, had got his plans well made.
They say that General Price has got most of the rebel force
Camped 'way down on Cane Creek, and pretty well fixed, of course;
And so we go down there, and about a mile away;
And then our batteries they did crack, our rifles they did play.
I tell you what I seen there, I never shall forget;
It seems the ground was all alive with secessionists;
Their durned old rifles shoot so true, I cannot tell you why;
They hit us in our stummicks, and they hit us in our eyes.
They killed our General Lyons, they makes our Seegel run;
And Solomon hit in the college; I'll tell you it was no fun;
They killed our men, they took our guns, they knocked us into fits;
And many a prisoner too they took, but I gits up and gits.
And now I am in Springfield; my legs are almost broke;
And for a want of lager beer I am so almost choked;
This blamed old rebel country will never do for me;
I ban isht run, I gits away to the city of St. Lou-ee.
And if I ever git there, may I be roasted done
If ever I shoot at a rebel again for money, love or fun;
I'll sit myself down by my plow, I'll hear my children cry;
And this shall be my Dutch prayer: I bid you all goodbye.
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