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My wife bought me the book " Stonewall Jackson's Foot Cavalry", by Walbrook D. Swank for my birthday last year. It is the diary of George Q. Peyton, 13th Virginia Infantry. I was reading this poem that was written on the wall in a home and laughed out loud for a few minutes. Of course my wife thought I was nuts.
Saturday, 2 April 1864; page 24
Note from George: (" Miss Bettie Hume owned a fine farm in a big bend in the Rapidan River between Somerville's Ford and Racoon Ford. She owned a great many slaves and was considered rich. Of course, she had a good many beaux and George Walters courted her for years, but she played shy and would not say "yes." Finally, a young Methodist preacher came on the Orange circuit and she married him. You can imagine George's feelings when he and I were camping in the kitchen from which he had often eaten the finest food that a Virginia table could hold. He took it all in good humor and took all our joking like a philosopher. Below are lines written by a picket soldier on the walls of Miss Betties' kitchen.")
"Miss Bettie Hume, I do presume
To trespass on your home,
It shelters me from storms you see,
I wish it was my own.
I've naught to do but think of you
And scribble on your wall,
Forgive me dear, for coming here
And leaving such a scrawl."
(Answer)
"Mister Picket, you rebel,
I wish you at the devil,
For then you would not scribble my wall,
You would then be art home
Not only would be at home
But be in your own hall.
You wish for my home
And all that I own
Which you will never possess
For I am pretty and considered witty
And I will live an old maid
For it is best."
Saturday, 2 April 1864; page 24
Note from George: (" Miss Bettie Hume owned a fine farm in a big bend in the Rapidan River between Somerville's Ford and Racoon Ford. She owned a great many slaves and was considered rich. Of course, she had a good many beaux and George Walters courted her for years, but she played shy and would not say "yes." Finally, a young Methodist preacher came on the Orange circuit and she married him. You can imagine George's feelings when he and I were camping in the kitchen from which he had often eaten the finest food that a Virginia table could hold. He took it all in good humor and took all our joking like a philosopher. Below are lines written by a picket soldier on the walls of Miss Betties' kitchen.")
"Miss Bettie Hume, I do presume
To trespass on your home,
It shelters me from storms you see,
I wish it was my own.
I've naught to do but think of you
And scribble on your wall,
Forgive me dear, for coming here
And leaving such a scrawl."
(Answer)
"Mister Picket, you rebel,
I wish you at the devil,
For then you would not scribble my wall,
You would then be art home
Not only would be at home
But be in your own hall.
You wish for my home
And all that I own
Which you will never possess
For I am pretty and considered witty
And I will live an old maid
For it is best."