What Lincoln was up
against lasted far beyond the firing of the final shot of that sad, silly war
as evidenced by the following:
'I rode with Robert E
Lee / For three years thereabout.
Got wounded in three
places / And I starved at Point Lookout.
I caught the
rheumatism / A'campin in the snow.
But I killed a
hundred Yankees / And I'd like to kill some more.
Three hundred
thousand Yankees / Is stiff in Southern dust,
We got three hundred
thousand / Before they conquered us.
They died of Southern
fever, / Of Southern steel and shot.
But I wish it was
three million / Instead of what we got.'
- 'I'm a good Old Rebel,' Post Civil
War ballad
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