Come, stack arms, men; pile on the rails;
  Stir up the camp-fire bright!
No growling if the canteen fails:
  We ’ll make a roaring night.
Here Shenandoah brawls along,
There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong,
To swell the Brigade’s rousing song,
  Of Stonewall Jackson’s Way.

We see him now—the queer slouched hat,
  Cocked...