Biggler he writ back
'At Jim was the bravest boy we had
In the whole dern rigiment, white er black.
And his fighten' good as his farmin' bad--
'At he had led, with a bullet clean
Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag
Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen,
The old man wound up a letter to him
'At Cap. read to us, 'at said: "Tell Jim
Good-by,
And take keer of hisse'f!"
Jim come home jes' long enough
To take the whim
'At he'd like to go back in the calvery--
And the old man jes' wrapped up in him!
Jim 'lowed 'at he'd had sich luck afore,
Guessed he'd tackle her three years more.
And the old man give him a colt he'd raised,
And follered him over to Camp Ben Wade,
And laid around fer a week er so,
Watchin' Jim on dress-parade--
Tel finally he rid away,
And last he heerd was the old man say,
"Well, good-by, Jim:
Take keer of yourse'f!"
Tuk the papers, the old man did,
A-watchin' fer Jim--
Fully believin' he'd make his mark
_Some_ way--jes' wrapped up in him!--
And many a time the word 'u'd come
'At stirred him up like the tap of a drum--
At Petersburg, fer instunce, where
Jim rid right into their cannons there,
And _tuk_ 'em, and p'inted 'em t'other way,
And socked it home to the boys in gray,
As they scooted fer timber, and on and on--
Jim a lieutenant and one arm gone,
And the old man's words in his mind all day,--
"Well, good-by, Jim:
Take keer of yourse'f!"
Think of a private now, perhaps,
We'll say like Jim,
'At's clumb clean up to the shoulder-straps
And the old man jes' wrapped up in him!
Think of him--with the war plum, through.
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