This is a registration-free website.


Cole Younger Song

This song is obviously not Cole's composition (although he was a model prisoner), and was probably a poem written for a northern newspaper before 1882, as it says Jesse was still alive. John Lomax collected a version for his 1910 Cowboy Songs. This somewhat different rendition was recorded by Texas cowboy singer Edward L. Crain in 1931, and re-released on the Folkways Anthology of American Folk Music. Dock Boggs recorded a fragmentary version using the Roving Gambler tune (Dock Boggs, The Folkways Years; Smithsonian-Folkways SFW40108), so when in1965 he performed at St. Olaf College in Northfield, he was visibly excited when he learned you could still see the bullet holes in the wall of the old bank building. We went there after the concert and took a picture of him in front of it as a tribute to tradition and those interested enough to keep it alive.

Complete Lyrics:
I am a noted highwayman, Cole Younger is my name;
'Tis deeds and desperation that brought my name to shame.

Robbing of the Northfield bank is a thing I'll never deny,
But which I will be sorry of until the day I die.

We started for old Texas, that grand old Lone Star State;
'Twas there on Nebraska prairies the James Boys we did meet.

With knives, gun, and revolvers, we all sit down to play
A game of good old poker to pass the time away.

Across Nebraska prairies a Denver train we spy.
I says to Bob, "We'll rob her as she goes rolling by."

We saddled up our horses, northwestward we did go
To the godforsaken country called Minnie-soh-tee-oh.

I had my eye on the Northfield bank when brother Bob did say,
"Cole, if you under-to-take the job, you'll always curse the day."

We stationed out our pickets, up to the bank did go,
'Twas there upon the counter, boys, we struck our fatal blow.

Saying, "Hand us out your money, sir, and make no long delay.
We are the noted Younger boys, and spend no time in play."

The cashier, being as true as steel, refused our noted band.
'Twas Jesse James that pulled the trigger that killed this noble man.

We run for life, for death was near, four hundred on our trail.
We soon was overtaken and landed safe in jail.

'Twas there in the Stillwater jail we lay, a-wearing our lives away.
Two James boys left to tell the tale of the sad and fateful day.

               "(Doc) Jennison has laid waste our homes, and your 'red' legs have

               perpetrated un-heard of crimes. I am here for revenge--and I have got it." 

                 "Bloody Bill" Anderson
at the Bullene residence
during the raid on Lawrence. 

                Any man who thinks he can be happy and prosperous by letting the 

       government take care of him--- better take a closer look at the
       American Indian." Henry Ford

"The Gun Is Civilization" by Maj. L. Caudill USMC (Ret)

Human beings only have two ways to deal with one another: reason and force.
If you want me to do something for you, you have a choice of either
convincing me via argument, or force me to do your bidding under threat of
force. Every human interaction falls into one of those two categories,
without exception.

Reason or force, that's it.

In a truly moral and civilized society, people exclusively interact through
persuasion. Force has no place as a valid method of social interaction and
the only thing that removes force from the menu is the personal firearm, as
paradoxical as it may sound to some.

When I carry a gun, you cannot deal with me by force. You have to use reason
and try to persuade me, because I have a way to negate your threat or
employment of force.

The gun is the only personal weapon that puts a 100-pound woman on equal
footing with a 220-pound mugger, a 75-year old retiree on equal footing with
a 19-year old gang banger, and a single guy on equal footing with a carload
of drunken guys with baseball bats.

The gun removes the disparity in physical strength, size, or numbers between
a potential attacker and a defender.

There are plenty of people who consider the gun as the source of bad force
equations. These are the people who think that we'd be more civilized if all
guns were removed from society, because a firearm makes it easier for a
[armed] mugger to do his job. That, of course, is only true if the mugger's
potential victims are mostly disarmed either by choice or by legislative
fiat--it has no validity when most of a mugger's potential marks are armed.

People who argue for the banning of arms ask for automatic rule by the
young, the strong, and the many, and that's the exact opposite of a
civilized society. A mugger, even an armed one, can only make a successful
living in a society where the state has granted him a force monopoly.

Then there's the argument that the gun makes confrontations lethal that
otherwise would only result in injury. This argument is fallacious in
several ways. Without guns involved, confrontations are won by the
physically superior party inflicting overwhelming injury on the loser.

People who think that fists, bats, sticks, or stones don't constitute lethal
force, watch too much TV, where people take beatings and come out of it with
a bloody lip at worst. The fact that the gun makes lethal force easier works
solely in favor of the weaker defender, not the stronger attacker. If both
are armed, the field is level.

The gun is the only weapon that's as lethal in the hands of an octogenarian
as it is in the hands of a weight lifter. It simply wouldn't work as well as
a force equalizer if it wasn't both lethal and easily employable.

When I carry a gun, I don't do so because I am looking for a fight, but
because I'm looking to be left alone. The gun at my side means that I cannot
be forced, only persuaded. I don't carry it because I'm afraid, but because
it enables me to be unafraid. It doesn't limit the actions of those who
would interact with me through reason, only the actions of those who would
do so by force. It removes force from the equation... and that's why
carrying a gun is a civilized act.

By Maj. L. Caudill USMC (Ret.)

So, the greatest civilization is one where all citizens are equally armed
and can only be persuaded, never force

THE CONFEDERATE PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE: "I am a Loyal Confederate Southern in the service of the just and honorable cause of the South, in behalf of the Citizens of the Confederate States of America. It is my purpose and mission to reclaim the honor of our forefathers who fought, suffered, bled and died in agony in our nation's defense. Unfurl and raise our Confederate States National Flag to its rightful place and glory. Duty, responsibility and my own personal honor require of me to do whatever is lawful, peaceful and honorable, in order to restore the Confederate States Constitution to power, re-seat the Confederate State Government, and reinstate the Confederate States of America to its rightful independence. With these words I swear my pledge of loyalty forever! Deo Vindice!

"I am not now nor have ever been in favor of bringing about in any way the social or the political equality of a White and Black races. I am not now, nor ever have been in favor of making voters or jurors of Negroes, nor of qualifying them to hold office, nor of intermarriages with white people. There is a physical difference between the white and black races, which will forever forbid the two races from living together on social or political equality. There must be a position of superior and inferior and I am in favor of assigning the superior position to the white man." Abraham Lincoln 
"GOD SAVE THE SOUTH" by George Henry Miles

God save the South, God save the South, 
Her altars and firesides, God save the South! 
Now that the war is nigh, now that we arm to die, 
Chanting our battle cry, "Freedom or death!" 
Chanting our battle cry, "Freedom or death!"
God be our shield, at home or afield, 
Stretch Thine arm over us, strengthen and save. 
What tho' they're three to one, forward each sire and son, 
Strike till the war is won, strike to the grave! 
Strike till the war is won, strike to the grave!

God made the right stronger than might, 
Millions would trample us down in their pride. 
Lay Thou their legions low, roll back the ruthless foe, 
Let the proud spoiler know God's on our side. 
Let the proud spoiler know God's on our side.

Hark honor's call, summoning all. 
Summoning all of us unto the strife. 
Sons of the South, awake! Strike till the brand shall break, 
Strike for dear Honor's sake, Freedom and Life! 
Strike for dear Honor's sake, Freedom and Life!

Rebels before, our fathers of yore. 
Rebel's the righteous name Washington bore. 
Why, then, be ours the same, the name that he snatched from shame, 
Making it first in fame, foremost in war. 
Making it first in fame, foremost in war.
War to the hilt, theirs be the guilt, 
Who fetter the free man to ransom the slave. 
Up then, and undismay'd, sheathe not the battle blade, 
Till the last foe is laid low in the grave! 
Till the last foe is laid low in the grave!

God save the South, God save the South, 
Dry the dim eyes that now follow our path. 
Still let the light feet rove safe through the orange grove, 
Still keep the land we love safe from Thy wrath. 
Still keep the land we love safe from Thy wrath.

God save the South, God save the South, 
Her altars and firesides, God save the South! 
For the great war is nigh, and we will win or die, 
Chanting our battle cry, "Freedom or death!" 
Chanting our battle cry, "Freedom or death!"

The following songs are TRADITIONAL and author(s) unknown.  If author is known, I will, of course, specify it.  Thanks.

Oh, I seen Big Joe as he got his horse and set himself for a ride.
He wore a coat of blackest black,
And his gun strapped by his side,
And his gun strapped by his side.

And I says, Big Joe, where do you go? Do you go to the Quantrill side?
For the night is black and your coat is black,
And your gun strapped by your side,
And your gun strapped by your side.

And I says, Big Joe, Oh yes I know they stole your fair young bride,
But you lost your wife and you'll lose your life,
If you go to the Quantrill side.
If you go to the Quantrill side.

But not a word did he say to me, and he passed me by with a stride.
And I says, Big Joe, Oh don't you go.
Don't you go to the Quantrill side.
Don't you go to the Quantrill side.

Bitter Creek was bare, and they caught him there, and that was the place where he died.
They killed him in his black, black coat.
And his gun strapped by his side.
And his gun strapped by his side  
The Union folks away up north were one time much afraid,
'Bout something coming from the South, they said it was a raid.
Now I will tell you what it was, if you will just keep cool
It had long ears, and a long slick tail, and called Jo Shelby's Mule.

Shout Boys, make a noise, the Yankees are afraid
That something's up and hell's to pay when Shelby's on a raid.
Once this mule went on a spree, up close to Lexington,
And every time he gave a snort he made the Blue Coats run.

Coming back through Old Saline he got into a trap,
He seared Old Brown, kicked up his heels, and came back safe to Pap.

Once I went to see Old Abe and found him in a rage,
Because this mule had started north, and just then crossed sage.

Indeed, his anger knew no bounds, says I, Sir, pray keep cool.
I can't, said he, I've lost so much by Shelby's long tailed Mule.

Old Rosy got a long dispatch, which came from way down East. 
Saying, Take some thirty thousand men and try to catch that beast. 

To obey orders he was bound, but said Abe was a fool, 
And hadn't halter strong enough to hold Jo Shelby's Mule. 

Some say our State did not secede, but let me tell you now 
That if she did or if she didn't we'll have her anyhow. 

Let us alone, we'll do the same, that is the Southern rule;
 If that won't do we'll pack the State down South on Shelby's Mule.

Missouri! Missouri! bright land of the west!
Where the way worn emigrant always found rest,

Who gave to the farmer reward for his toil,
Expended in turning and breaking the soil.

Awake to the notes of the bugle and drum,
Awake from your slumber the tyrant hath come!

And swear by your honor your chains shall be riven,
And add your bright star to our flag of eleven.

They forced you to join in their unholy fight,
With fire and with sword, with power and with might.

Gainst father and brother, and loved ones so near,
Gainst women, and children, and all you hold dear;

They've over run your soil, insulted your press,
Theyve murdered your citizens shown no redress

So swear by your honor your chains shall be riven,
And add your bright star to our flag of eleven.

Missouri! Missouri! oh, where thy proud fame!
Free land of the west, thy once cherished name,

Now trod in the dust by a despot's command,
Proclaiming his own tyrant law o'er the land;

Brave men of Missouri, strike without fear,
McCulloch, and Jackson, and Price are all near.

Then swear by your honor your chains shall be riven,
And add your bright star to our flag of eleven.

Up! comrades, up! The moon's in the west, and the hounds of old Pennock will find out our nest.
We must be gone ere the dawning of day; the Quantrill they seek shall be far, far away.
Their toils after us shall ever be vain. Let them scout through the brush and scour the plain;
We'llpass through their midst in the dead of the night. We are lions in combat and eagles in flight.
Chorus: Rouse, my brave boys, up, up and away; press hard on the foe ere the dawning of day;
Look well to your steeds so gallant in chase. May they never give o'er till they win in the race.
When old Pennock is weary and the chase given o'er, we'll pass through their midst and bathe in their gore.
We'll come as a thunderbolt comes from the cloud; we'll smite the oppressor and humble the proud.
Few shall escape us and few shall be spared, for keen is our saber, in vengeance tis bared;
For none are so strong, so mighty in fight, as the the warrior who battles for our Southern right.
Though the bush is our home, the green sod our bed, our drink from the river, and roots for our bread,
We pine not for more; we bow not the head, for freedom is ever within the green wood.
Tyrants shan'tconquer and fetters shan't bind, for true are our rifles; our steeds like the wind.
We'll sheathe not the sword; we'll draw not the rein, till Pennock is banished from valley and plain.

Come all you bold robbers and open your ears,
Of Quantrill the lion-heart you quickly shall hear;
With his band of bold robbers in double quick time,
They came to burn Lawrence just over the line.

All routing and shouting and giving the yell,
Like so many demons just raised up from hell,
The boys they were drunken on powder and wine,
They came to burn Lawrence just over the line.
They came to burn Lawrence, they came not to stay,
They rode in one morning at the break of the day,
Their arms were a-waving, their horses a-foam,
Quantrill was riding his famous grey roan.
They came to burn Lawrence, they came not to stay,
Jim Lane he was up at the break of the day;
He saw them a-coming, and got in a fright,
He crawled in a out-house to get out of sight.
Oh, Quantrill's a fighter, a bold heart-ed boy,
A brave man or woman he'd never annoy;
He'd take from the wealthy and give to the poor,
For brave men there's never a bolt on his door.

As I roved out one morning
To see what I could see,
I fell in love with a pretty little girl
And her in love with me.
And her in love with me
I fell in love with a pretty little girl
And her in love with me.
She took me to her parlor
She cooled me with her fan,
She whispered low in her mother's ear
I love the guerrilla man...
Oh, daughter, oh dear daughter
How can you treat me so,
To leave your dear old mother
And with the guerrilla go?...
Mother, Oh dear mother,
You know I love you well.
But the love I have for the guerrilla man
No human tongue can tell...

Come all you that hold true communion with southern Confederates bold,
I will tell you of some men who for the Union in the northern ranks were enrolled;
Who came to Missouri in their glory, and thought by their power we'd be dismayed;
But we soon made them tell a different story when they met with Kelly's Irish Brigade. 

Three cheers for the Irish Brigade
Three cheers for the Irish Brigade.
And all true-hearted Hibernians
In the ranks of Kelly's Irish Brigade!
You call us rebels and traitors, but yourselves have thrown off that name of late.
You were called it by the English invaders at home in seventeen and ninety-eight.
The name to us is not a new one, though 'tis one that never will degrade
Any true-hearted Hibernian in the ranks of Kelly's Irish Brigade 

You dare not call us invaders, 'tis but state rights and liberties we ask;
And Missouri, we ever will defend her, no matter how hard be the task.
Then let true Irishmen assemble; let the voice of Missouri be obeyed;
And northern fanatics may tremble when they meet with Kelly's Irish Brigade

No one is left to tell us what it was like to fight for and lose the Cause. 
However, we have some excellent poetry, songs, and quotes from which we can seek understanding.
 In this section, I will begin with just a few examples.  I hope that others will send me their favorites and I will add them.

A partial quote from a letter written by Julia Hughes Spurr, Sponsor, Ky Division UCV, 1896, Pine Grove, Ky.

... Our poet priest of the South thus speaks to us in the conquered banner -"Touch it not - unfold it never - Let it drop
 - there unfurled forever - for its people's hopes are dead." We of the dear Southland would never say unfurl those banners -
 not in war but in peace. Carry them on high - show the world they are dear to us yet - build a memorial faster -
 more magnificent than any on our Globe.  Say to our people although all was once dark & dear - bright and joyous days have come -
 & we love "their curse" with a better love, & a fonder devoltion than ever...

"It is well that war is so terrible, else men would learn to love it to much."   
Robert E. Lee, CSA

"If we are to die, let us die like men."
Major General Patrick Cleburne

"[If the South loses] it means that the history of this heroic struggle will be written by the enemy. 
That our youth will be trained by Northern school teachers, will learn from Northern school books their version of the war, 
will be impressed by all of the influences of History and Education to regard our gallant dead as traitors and our maimed veterans 
as fit subjects for derision.
Major General Patrick Cleburne 
As most of you know many verses of Southern songs and many stanzas of Southern poems were deleted because they did not pass PC muster, 
deleted because they did not fit the victor's ideas, or simply "lost" through the ages. When I first put on the first verse of the"Conquered Banner" 
by Rev. J. A Ryan, I thought that was the entire song!  I recently found the entire six verse song in the book,
Southern War Songs collected by W. L. Fagan in 1890.  Here is the entire song:

Furl that banner, for tis weary,
Round its staff tis drooping dreary,
Furl it, fold it, it is best,

For there's not a man to wave it,
And there's not a sword to save it,
And there's not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave it;

And its foes now scorn and brave it,
--Furl it, hide it, let it rest.

Take that banner down tis tattered,
Broken is its staff and shattered,
And the valiant hosts are scattered
Over whom it floated high.

Oh ! tis hard for us to fold it,
Hard to think there's none to hold it,
Hard that those who once unrolled it
Now must furl it with a sigh.

Furl that banner, furl it sadly ---
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly,
And ten thousands wildly, madly,
Swore it should forever wave,

Swore that foeman's sword could never
Hearts like their's entwined dissever,
Till that flag would float forever
er their freedom or their grave.

Furl it ! for the hands that grasped it,
And the hearts that fondly clasped it,
Cold and dead are lying low;

And the banner, it is trailing
While around it sounds the wailing
Of the people in their woe.

For, though conquered, they adore it,
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it,
Weep for those who fell before it,
Share on Twitter! Digg this story! Del.icio.us Share on Facebook! Technorati Reddit StumbleUpon
Powered by SMF 1.1.12 | SMF © 2006-2009, Simple Machines LLC

TinyPortal 1.0 RC1 | © 2005-2010 BlocWeb

Published by Ourturn79 Orginization | © 2007 Andrei Cantey

Copyright © 2011 CanteyMyersCollection, All rights reserved.

You may not repost, republish, reproduce, package and/or redistribute the content of this page,

in whole or in part, without the written permission of the copyright holder. LOGIN