To the Memory of Silent Sam and the Men who Wore the Butternut and Gray
Silent Sam; a mere symbol; a monument
One of hundreds cast and molded in cement
A symbol of remembrance, erected to honor valiant men
Who sacrificed both life and limb; some never to see home again
Their blood was shed for home and country
Asleep now in gardens of stone, til' the final reveille
We are the ghosts of thousands; men who wore the butternut and gray
In the Shennandoah, I took a minie ball and died before I hit
At Chancellorsville my spurs went cold, never again to fit the bridle bit
It was Kelly's Ford where the gallant Pelham fell
I lost my leg before I could render to him, my last farewell
We were ordinary men when the despot reached our door
We could have chosen not to fight him, but we loved honor more
Our Southern blood was emptied, but we never did give up
Until at Appomattox, where we drained the bitter cup
We were players in the unfolding of that great drama
Actors on a live stage in that spectacular diorama
We could not record the scenes and events to fully tell the story
Our emotions ran too strong to commit it all to memory
The Federal brigades stood at "order arms" position
With Gordon leading our columns;
We passed before them in parade formation
They in precision executed the manual of arms to the position of "salute"
The "carry arms" it was then called; an honor of some distinction
At the snap of arms Gordon wheeled his horse facing the victorious foe
Every bit the soldier that he was; bowing in salutation, dropping swordpoint to toe
Then Gordon sent orders for our ranks to return their token of tribute
Our units executed the manual of arms to the position of "salute"
As the Federals passed before our front in parade formation,
"Carry arms" was given in mutual farewell and salutation
After halting then turning, with our lines now abreast
Torn and tattered battle flags upon our trembling lips were pressed
Then laid soft like eiderdown, as gentle and as tender
With tearful resignation, each rank stacked it's arms; the formality of surrender
When we broke ranks and bade our final adieu
I thought I heard the long roll; the prolonged beat of the drum's tattoo
It's call we couldn't answer, had we heard the battle roar
For we shot the bolt at Five Forks and we could do no more
I listened quietly for the command for our lines to reform
No command came forth; the sounds I heard was thunder from a distant storm
The students of that day fondly named him Silent Sam
Just one of hundreds molded in cement
Raised to honor men of valor, a silent monument
For over a hundred years he stood his watch
Until the anarchists came; his purpose there to botch
They adeptly played the race card; charged he was an offence
Some were there to speak for Sam and came to his defense
But their voice was not allowed,
The scales of justice were tipped to favor the political correctness crowd
Silent Sam was toppled on the College grounds
A prestigious University, they boast; where freedom can be found
The Chancellor, the rule of law, and freedom of expression went missing on that day
The anarchists and cancel culture carried Sam away
They insist the culture of the past be judged by standards of today
Dear Alma Mater as you continue to indoctrinate our youth
With revisions of our history and no regard for truth
While you sow the seeds of lies and misconception
Take care you're not caught in the web of your own deception
So here's to the Southern Cross; may she forever wave
In memory of the men who rallied behind her; the valiant and the brave
To Sam who isn't silent; let's raise our glasses high
He was the victim of an enemy that trampled him to dust
An enemy that's intent on destroying every one of us
If we listen we can hear Sam; his message to inform
Do we hear the roar of battle; or is it just the thunder of the coming storm
Grant Marcum
Revised 7-28 2020
