Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty, February 4, 1862

We closed up the day with a dress parade, the Colonel in command. The camp is more boisterous than usual. No more petitions have been presented.

The Major received a package from home to-night containing, among other articles, a pair of slippers, which, greatly to my advantage, were too small for him. They were turned over to me, and it happens that no little thing could have been more acceptable.

The bright moonlight of to-night enlivens our spirits somewhat, and fills us with new courage. The days have been dark and gloomy, and the nights still more so, for many days and nights past.

From the band of the Tenth Ohio, half a mile away, come strains mellow and sweet. The air is full of moonlight and music. The boys are in a happier mood, and a round, full voice comes to us from the tents with the words of an old Scotch song:

March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale!

Why, my lads, dinna ye march forward in order?

March, march, Eskale and Liddlesdale!

All the blue bonnets are over the border.

Many a banner spread flutters above your head,

Many a crest that is famous in story;

Mount and make ready, then, sons of the mountain glen!

Fight for the King and the old Scottish border!

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 102

Diary of Colonel John Beatty, February 24, 1862

Routed out at daylight and ordered to make Nashville, a distance of thirty-two miles. Many of the boys have no shoes, and the feet of many are still very sore. The journey seems long, but we are at the head of the column, and that stimulates us somewhat. Have sent my horse to the rear to help along the very lame, and am making the march on foot.

The martial band of the regiment is doing its utmost to keep the boys in good spirits; the base drum sounds like distant thunder, and the wind of Hughes, the fifer, is inexhaustible; he can blow five miles at a stretch. The members of the band are in good pluck, and when not playing, either sing, tell stories, or indulge in reminiscences of a personal character. Russia has been badgering William Heney, a drummer. He says that while at Elkwater Heney sparked one of Esquire Stalnaker's daughters, and that the lady's little sister going into the room quite suddenly one evening called back to the father, "Dad, dad, William Heney has got his arm around Susan Jane!" Heney affirms that the story is untrue. Lochey favors us with a song, which is known as the warble.

Thou, thou reignest in this bosom,

    There, there hast thou thy throne;

Thou, thou knowest that I love thee;

    Am I not fondly thine own?

 

Ya-ya-ya-ya.

Am I not fondly thine own?

 

CHORUS.

 

Das unda claus ish mein,

Das unda claus ish mein,

Cants do nic mock un do.

 

On the banks of the Ohio river,

    In a cot lives my Rosa so fair;

She is called Jim Johnson's darky,

    And has nice curly black hair.

Tre alo, tre alo, tre ola, ti.

 

O come with me to the dear little spot,

    And I'll show you the place I was born,

In a little log hut by a clear running brook,

    Where blossom the wild plum and thorn.

Tre ola, tre ola, treo la ti.

 

Mein fadter, mein modter, mein sister, mein frau,

    Undt swi glass of beer for meinself,

Undt dey call mein wife one blacksmit shop;

    Such dings I never did see in my life.

Tre ola, tre ola, tre ola ti.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 109-11