by Jerry Curtis

Created on: July 15, 2007

We are the ghosts of Shiloh
Twenty thousand of us dead
Some were killed
In the hornets nest
Some in the surgeon's bed

Now we fly as eagles
Over lines of blue and gray
We hear the shouts
"They're comin' boys!"
As dead spirits float our way

The Minnie balls and grape shot
Rake those human ranks so clean
They fall like wheat
Before the scythe
Red fields no longer green

And thousands died at Vicksburg
Antietam, Gettysburg
We fell in droves
At Marrye's Hill
Mowed down at Fredricksburg

Our bodies lie in unmarked graves
Our families know not where
They wouldn't know us anyway
For the dirt and worms we share

We are the ghosts of Malvern Hill
The war's last battle fought
If we could have lasted one more week
We'd share that peace they bought

Looking back to '61
When we gave that warlike shout
The Rebel Yell and Yankee cry
Like our youth is now bled out

Why did we fight our countrymen?
We dead can tell you why
But you know we ain't a telling
To know you've got to die

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