The National tribune., 1895-07-18


suit, and it is expected that II
time every regiment and battery vii
have its monument upon the field.
OIL BILL REYNOLDs's DOTTED SON.
by CAPT. JACK CRAWFORD THE POET SCOUT.
We all locke down the little cuss
When he come TO school with the rest OF US,
just cause lie war adopted boy,
From orphan 'syum in Iinoy.
He Ind no parents, leastvise he said,
Fur all he knowed both OH 'em war dead
Died fore was born" he said TO me,
Wen chnffcd him about his pedigree.
lie didn't seer, fur 10 have n bit
o. fghtn' metal or spunky grit.
But TUX our siurs In n quiet way.
An endured our tormests day after day,
Without so much a sass-baok word,
No matter how off-n or hard We spurred;
The butt o. the schoards fur wicked fun
War or Bill Reynolds 'dopted son.
He larnt his lessons-the teacher said,
Wen the term war over he'd be ahead
OF all us scholards snrtin an shore.
If we didn't tend TO our knittin' more.
An wen the examination come.
The Board o. Directors jes' struck us dumb,
BY givin' the prizes, every one.
To OF Bill Reynolds 'dopted son.
This made us wild, nm we up an swors
We wouldn't go TO that school no more
Unless the Directors ID fix il so
That little reperbate couldn't go.
But afore the school Tux up we heard
That Oh Bill Reynolds somehow perferred
To send him into the city. whar'
A big, hifautin' academy war.
He come TO Bills on n visit twice.
Dressed up. an lookin' uncommon nice,
But never showed up on the village street.
.Jcs' like he WAS 'feard of us boys he'd meet.
Vt war wise perceedin'. fur none OF US
ID associate with the nnmeless cuss
That had no pedigree more'n the one
OF OF Bill Reynolds's 'dOpted con.
II soricr surprised us wen someone read
piece In the city paper at said
That Honer'ble Senator Blake had set
On him fur West Point school cadet.
or Bill moved East ssn' we never heard
'Moncst all us boys not another word
Till the big Secession war ID begun,
OF or Bill Reynolds's 'dopted SON.
Most OF us oil schsolfelIegs went
AT the fust break-out o. the deviiment,
An reckon thar wasn't n wilder cuss
Than in that hun rebellion muss.
Disipatin' an play i'm cards.
The scum o. the regiment fur my pards-
Never stopped fur a5breathin' spell
In my reckless run fur the gates o. helli
1t seems like nightmare, lookin' back
4 gambIin' quarrel-a pis. OILS crack
A schoolboy comrade by my hand slain
A hand impel!ed by a rum-crazed brnin.
The dread court martial. my quick drawn breath
As heard the words, ITO be shot to desthI"
The nameless terror that clung TO me
As peered o'er the brink of eterniiyI
My mother came, with her pale. cad face,
From our village home to my prison place
Came with the old-time, glad voice hushed-
Came with heart my hand had crushed.
Kissed and embraced me OF yore,
Called me her darling DER and o'er
Humbly knelt by my side and prayed
That the stern hand Of justice might be stayed
Her face reflected her hearts keen pains
As she heard the ring o. my clankin' chains;
Eyes that bcamed love in the bygone years
Were duIed with sorrows most bitter tears.
Her hand on my burnin' head she laid.
1H Dhuc me pray Us never
As for me with iremb ling steps she went
With one last hope to the Generals tent.
The ensuin hour seemed year TO me,
As waited thar in my misery.
The sentry with sympathetic face
Marched TO and fro with funeral pace.
O'er the face o. the sun thar crept n cloud,
Fiimy an white a a coffin shroud.
An Il raven distant wooded slope,
Seemed To croak the warnin': No hope! Nc
hopei"
Down through the aises o. the tented camp
Came n squad of guards with n tramp, tramp
tramp.
Half dazed I marched mid the glistenin' guns,
Borne proudly by Unions blue-clad sons,
Marched to headquarters an stood before
The great commander. whose broad brow wore
Undyin' laurels his skill had won,
On "A dozen fields meath the Southern sun.
Ny brain war awhirl! The events now seem
As the shadowy memories ola dream;
The smile % my mother. sad but sweet.
As she sat on q stool nj the Generals feet
can gee The Generals courtly grace,
As iie raised his eyes to my paid fhce-
My boy. your mothers prayers have won;
You are pardoned by Reynolds's 'dopied son >
Wen GO TO the 'campments every year.
No one has a louder heartier cheer
Than /, when our Generals ride along,
The idols of that blue coated throng.
But I've got one special cheer AT I'll keep
Till ut our great hero get peep.
An then IL rings lire a Parrott gun
Fur OF Bill Reynolds 'dopted son.