“Hardtack Come Again No More!”
Let us close our game of poker,
Take our tin cups in our hand,
As we all stand by the cook tent door.
As dried mummys of hard cracker are handed to each man,
Oh! Hardtack come again no more!
CH:
‘Tis the song, the sigh of the hungry,
Oh, Hardtack, hardtack come again no more.
Many days have you lingered,
Upon our stomachs, sore.
Oh! Hardtack come again no more!
‘Tis a hungry, thirsty soldier,
Who wears his life away,
In torn cloths whose better days are o’er.
And he’s sighing now for whiskey in a voice as dry as hay.
Oh! Hardtack come again no more!
Ch:
‘Tis the wail that is heard in the camp,
Both night and day.
‘Tis the murmer that mingles with each snore.
‘Tis the sighing of the soul for spring chickens far away.
Oh! Hardtack come again no more!
Ch:
But to these cries and murmers,
There comes a sudden hush.
As frail forms are fainting by the door.
For they feed us now on horsefeed that the cooks call MUSH!
Oh! Hardtack come again once more!
Ch: (last)
‘Tis the dying wail of the starving!
Oh! Hardtack, hardtack come again once more!
You were old and very wormy,
But your failings we’ll pass o’er.
Oh! Hardtack come again once more!
(To the tune of “Hard Times Come Again No More”
I learned it "the wail that is mingled with each snore."
"Goober Peas"
Sitting by the roadside, on a summer's day,
Chatting with my messmates, passing time away,
Lying in the shadow underneath the trees
Goodness how delicious, eating goober peas!
Peas, peas, peas, peas, eating goober peas,
Goodness how delicious, eating goober peas!
When a horseman passes, the soldiers have a rule
To cry out at their loudest, "Mister here's your mule."
But another pleasure, enchantinger than these
Is wearing out your grinders, eating goober peas.
(chorus)
Just before the battle, the General hears a row,
He says, "The Yanks are coming, I hear their rifles now."
He turns around in wonder, what do you think he sees?
The Georgia Militia, eating goober peas.
(chorus)
I think my song has lasted almost long enough,
The subject's interesting, but the rhymes are mighty rough.
I wish the war was over, when free from rags and fleas,
We'll kiss our wives and sweethearts, and gobble goober peas.
Peas, peas, peas, peas, eating goober peas,
Goodness how delicious, eating goober peas!
I have this book, it has all the good ones in it.