April Fools For Bobby Lee
“Just when he thought he’d had all he could take,April arrived like a careless mistake.” The previous from, DRIVING DIXIE DOWN, by Anonymous BrownSmithstonian Folkways Recordings catalogue # 317-704-1106In preface to... When something is broken, it’s no longer of any useOnce you’ve given up trying to fix it.When April came, I was no longer of any use.I was still marching, but I no longer had an army;All I did was foot the bill.Jackson had long since crossed that river;Longstreet just sat in his tent.As my battle weariness grew deeper,My most trusted companion and partnerMirrored my distress by declaring herselfA victim of compassion fatigue.The lady who’d enabled meHad decided she’d changed her mind.She faulted my drinking, forgetting my thirstAnd the sacrifices I’d madeTrying to save our confederacy.Arlington no longer belongs to me;Now it belongs to the dead.My fortune is gone, spentIn the service of a hopeless cause.As I survey the situation,Grieving everything I’ve lost,I agree the logistics were dauntingAnd our cause did involveThe unpleasant issue of slavery,But then, aren’t we all slaves to something?Loyalty to my beloved state was alwaysMy principal motivation;Loyalty to my home and family.The requirements of honorWould have no less of me.I realized too late that every timeWe went walking together,I was really walking alone,While she kept her thoughts confined to her journal.I know it ended when PickettFailed to carry Cemetery Ridge,And the paymaster was forced into bankruptcy.But denial makes us blindTo that which we choose not to accept.We bargain for strategies to defeat depression.Anger becomes the last resort.You can’t put the wind in a bottleThen complain he’s no longer the man you married.I’ve witnessed Easter Sunday steal the gloryGood Friday earned in blood,And watched dawn reveal the solid chocolate bunnyPresented to me was hollow as a regimental drum.I’d trusted the confectioner’s sales pitch.It is with genuine justification that she called meThe hardest working, and most cynical man she’s ever known.And though she never spoke a falsehood,She left out half the truth.But road worn and struggle weary though I am,I’m still not ready for surrender.Perhaps next week, but not today.Not while I still have the strength to draw breathIn a calm and deliberate manner.Dignity is a more comforting mantleThan material success, on or off the battlefield.And at least Traveller has remained loyal.He’s only ever been but one shade of gray.Not all mounts have that quality. I have learned that baysCan be especially skittish, and are prone to bolt when scared,However much they might cozy up when sugar is available.Despite our best intentions and noblest effortsProvidence will sometimes intervene against us.Success has proven to be illusory.Having come across four Aprils staring Death in the faceI can now claim him to be my most faithful companion,Morbid and stoic though he is.And he’ll ride with me, I’m sure, as we retreat further west.I believe he relishes our conversations.Our supply train awaits us at Appomattox.First we’ll cut through Sheridan’s cavalry screen,Then join forces with the Army of TennesseeAnd carry on the fight.We must always look beyondThe obstacles obstructing our progressAnd carry on the fight.How else can one live with one’s self?In the final analysis, however,I have come to conclude that forgiveness and loveMust be central to negotiationsIn any discussion of terms, should it come to that,And vow to abide with the outcome for better or worse.In the somber halls of a house dividedThere’s no point to letting muddy bootsRuin the carpet.With malice toward none…