Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1866-11-02
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JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG.


Have you heard the story that gossips tell
OF John Burns of GettysburgR-No7A All, well
Brief is the glory that hero earns,
Briefer the story of poor John Burns;
He was the fellow who won renown-
The only man who didn't back down
When the rebels rode through his native town
But held his own in the fight next day,
When all his townsfolks ran away.
That was in July, sixty three,
The very day that General Lee,
Flower of Southern chivalry,
Baffled and beaten, backward reeled
From stubborn Meade and barren field.
l might tell how, but tie day before,
John Burns stood at his cottage door
Looking down the village street,
Where in the shade of his peaceful vine
He heard the low of his gathering kline,
And felt their breath with incense sweet:
Or, might say, when the sunset burned
The old farm gable, he thought it turned
The milk that fell in babbling flood
Into the milk k-pail, red as blood;
Or, how he fancied the hum of bees
Were bullets buzzing among the trees.
But all such fanciful thoughts as these
Were strange to practical man like Burns,
Who minded only his own concerns.
Troubled 10 more by fancies fine
Than one of his calm eyed, long-taiIed kline
Quite old-fashioned and matter-of-fsct.
Slow TO argue, but quick to act.
That was the reason, as some folks saw.
He fought so well on that terrible day.
Aud it was terrible On the right
Ragged for hours the heavy fight,
Thundered the batteries of doubIe-bas
Difficult music for men to face;
While on the left-where now the graves
Undulste like the living waves
That ali day unceasng swept
Up to the pits the rebels kept
Round shot plowed the upland glades.
Sown with bullets, reaped with blades;
Shattered fences here and there
Tossed their splinters in the air;
The very trees were stripped and bare;
The barns that once held yellow grain
Were heaped with harvests of the slain,
The cattle beloved on the plain,
The turkeys screamed with might and main,
And brOoding barn fowl left their rest
With strange shell bursting in each nest.
j ust where the tide Of battle turns.
Erect and manly stood old John Burns.
How do you think the man was dressed?
He wore an ancient long buff vest,
Yellow as saffron-but his best;
And, buitoned over his manly breast,
Was bright blue coat with a rolling collar,
And large gilt buttODs-sze of dollar
With tails that country called "swaller. +"
He wore broad -brimmed, bell crowned hat,
White as the locks on which it sat.
Never had such sight been seen
For forty years on the village green,
Since John Burns was country beau,
And went to the 'quilting" long ago.
Close at bis elbows, all that day,
Veterans of the Peninsula,
Sunburnt and bearded, charged away.
And striplings, downy of lip and chin
Clerks that the Home Guard mustered in
Glanced as they passed at the hat he wore,
Then at the rifle his right hand bore;
And hailed him from out their youthful lore,
With scraps Of slangy repertoire;
How are you White HAITI" "Put her through"
Your cad s level" and Bully for you'll"
Called him "daddy"-and begged he'd disclose
The name of the tailor who made his clothes,
Aud what was the value he set on those;
While Burns, unmindlul of jeer and scoff,
Stood there picking the rebels Off
With his long brown rife, and bell-crown hat,
And the swallow-tails they were laughing at.
Twas but moment for that respect
Which clothes all courage their voices checked;
And something the widest could understand
Spake in the old mans strong right baud,
And his corded throat, and the lurking frown
Of his eyebrows under his old bell-crown;
UNTIL as they gazed, there crept an awe
Thro' the ranks in whispers, and some men saw,
In the antique vestments and long white hair,
The Past of the Nation in battle there.
And some of the soldiers since declare
That the CLEAN of his old white hat afar,
Like the crested plume of the brave Navarro,
That day was their orifamme of war.
Thus ragged the battle. You know the rest;
How the rebels, beaten and backward pressed,
Broke at the final charge and ran.
At which John Burns-a practical man
Shouldered his rifle, unbent his brows,
And then went wack 10 his bees and COWS.
This is the story of old John Burns;
This is the moral the reader learns:
In fighting the battle, the questions whether
Y ou II show hat that's white, or a feather.