The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1892-11-03
The Pauper Soldiers Story.

From Mr.. LIE. Dickey, Washington, d. c.,
We received the October issue of The Bugle
Call published by Geo. G. Meade Post No s.
G. A. r., containing the following poem.
Well. YES, it is sort of rough, sir,
A havin' to linger here,
An To think that must stay till die
In this poorhouse, cIleerless and drear.
But | amt in tit condition
To struggle fur daily bread
An l had to come to this dreary home
Fur place fur to Law my head.
A soldier? Yes, enlisted
In the summer O siXty-one,
An | done my shar' through the dreadful
As private, packin a gun;
Me an William an Charley,
My boys, big-hearted an brave;
Far, far away in the South they lay
At rest in soldiers grave
Twas a sad an fearful day, sir,
When they hid their mother goodby,
To march away to the fields o fray,
To tight an if need he. die.
An I'll never forgit her face, sir,
AS white as the drfted snow,
AS she pressed each head to her heart am
said
.Oh God. can let them go?'
There wasn't man in the ranks, sir,
That didn't cry like IA child
To hear her means an her piteous groans
As into the ears we filed:
An when the sharp whistle sounded
An the train from the station sped,
She tainted away, an we seed her lay
On the ground like a person dead
Mister, let 5 drop that subject
Twas the saddest day o my life;
] kin see again that scene at the train,
An it cuts my heart Ike knife.
Will only say Wen the .iulngS
OF the boys on the telegraph flew.
Not a wore, did She 81 ak, an in less'n a
week
They buried my old 'fe. too.
come home rrom the service shattered
BY exposure To cold an rain,
But hobhled about. an sort o made ont
To live: but the awful pain
i suffered at last updone me,
Till | scarce could stan on my feet:
Then to and fro l had fur to go
A-beggin fur What | eat
At asst the authorities toll me
They'd give Inc place To die,
An they brought me here to this place sc
drear,
An here I'm compelled To lie.
An Just as You say it's hard, sir,
To he treated III sich way,
Like worn out pan, OF an empty can,
Or garment that's seed its day.
Why don't | AK fur pension?
| did, nigh six Years ago;
An one time thought had surely got
To the end o msfortune's row,
Fur Congress said deserved it,
An II made my Of heart rejoice
When l heard at last that the bill had pass
Without an obectn' voice.
Lord sir. but wa happy,
An proud as the rroudest king?
Ny heart seemed light as schoolboy'S kite
An my voice had Joyous ring,
thanked the Lord fur his goodness,
An l thanked the Senators, too
Fur bein SO kind as to keep i'll mind
The crippled Oh boys in blue.
But the clouds come again around me
Come Ilacker than ever afore;
Not d ray u light broke through to my sight
On the march 20 rhis poorhouse door.
Bnt Cleveland crushed NV hopes, sir,
An doomed me to this sa4, lot
He spurned me, too, like a worn AHt shoe,
After all the battles, | fought.
Mehbe twas right fur to do it
We not murh larun;' You see
An ie knows, / expect, what's right an cor
rect,
A good deai bettern me:
bllt there One that's higher than him, slr
AND when from this earth I'm free
reckon III lind He Will he more kind
III nan the Presidents been To
CAPTAIN JACK CRAWFORD.