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Vicksburg

Vicksburg / Words & Music

I am a native son of the stars and bars
In a coat made of Richmond grey
The same wool on the shoulders of Robert Lee
that he wore on the final day.
You can talk about economics
You can argue the rights of states
But you can’t cheat fate
Or erase the sound of the moans
On the hallowed ground.

So take me to Vicksburg
I want to see where daddy fell
On a silent hill where the wind’s as still
As the ghost of a rebel yell.

I’m a native son of the stars and bars
I’ve got wounds that refuse to mend
The same wounds that were opened in ‘65
When we came to a shameful end
You can talk about grace and honor
You can cry that it’s all been lost
But no cause is just
if the cause at hand
Is enslaving another man

So take me to Vicksburg
I want to see where daddy fell
On a silent hill where the wind’s as still
As the ghost of a rebel yell.

Yeah they say the war is over
Reunited once again
The north and south
Is a bitter taste in the mouth
Of a confederate man

Christian Teele, drums and percussion / Ron Bland, bass / Andy Hall, dobro / Pete Wasner, piano / Eric Moon, piano / Marc Lacuesta, background vocals / R. Dean, guitar