human
Somebody's Darling slumbers here.
gpt
And who are _you_? at length the sergeant said.
human
And where's your home? he growled again. She lisped out,
gpt
Who is me? Why, don't you know? I'm little Jane, the Pride of Battery B. My home? Why, that was burned away, and pa and ma are dead; And so I ride the guns all day along with Sergeant Ned. And I've a drum that's not a toy, a cap with feathers, too; And I march beside the drummer boy on Sundays at review. But now our 'bacca's all give out, the men can't have their smoke, And so they're cross--why, even Ned won't play with me and joke. And the big colonel said to-day--I hate to hear him swear-- He'd give a leg for a good pipe like the Yanks had over there. And so I thought when beat the drum, and the big guns were still, I'd creep beneath the tent and come out here across the hill And beg, good Mister Yankee men, you'd give me some 'Lone Jack.' Please do: when we get some again, I'll surely bring it back. Indeed I will, for Ned--says he,--if I do what I say, I'll be a general yet, maybe, and ride a prancing bay.