]> <emph>Stonewall Jackson's Way:</emph> Electronic Edition. Palmer, John Williamson, 1825-1906. Funding from the Institute of Museum and Library Services supported the electronic publication of this title. Text scanned (OCR) by Gretchen Fricke Images scanned by Gretchen Fricke Text encoded by Elizabeth Wright and Natalia Smith First edition, 1999 ca. 20K Academic Affairs Library, UNC-CH University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 1999.

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 Call number 3193.8 Conf. (Rare Book Collection, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill) Stonewall Jackson's Way. 1 p. Martinsburg, [Va.] [s. n.] 1862

The electronic edition is a part of the UNC-CH digitization project, Documenting the American South.

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 Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998 English Latin Jackson, Stonewall, 1824-1863 -- Poetry. Confederate States of America -- Poetry. Southern States -- Poetry. United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Poetry. 2000-03-13, Celine Noel and Wanda Gunther revised TEIHeader and created catalog record for the electronic edition. 1999-09-30, Natalia Smith, project manager, finished TEI-conformant encoding and final proofing. 1999-09-30, Elizabeth Wright finished TEI/SGML encoding 1999-09-10, Gretchen Fricke finished scanning (OCR) and proofing.

[Image of the Broadside]

 Stonewall Jackson's Way.

(Found on a Rebel Sergeant of the old Stonewall Brigade, taken at Winchester, Va.)

 Come, stack arms, men! Pile on the rails— Stir up the camp-fire bright. No matter if the canteen fails, We'll make a roaring night! Here Shenandoah brawls along, The burly Blue-Ridge echoes strong, To swell the brigade's rousing song, Of “Stonewall Jackson's way!” We see him now,—the old slouched hat Cocked o'er his eye askew,— The shrewd dry smile,—the speech so pat, So calm, so blunt, so true. The “Blue Light Elder,” knows 'em well; Says he “that's Banks,—he's fond of shell, Lord save his soul!—we'll give him.”—well, That's “Stonewall Jackson's way.” Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off! Old Blue Lights going to pray. Strangle the fool that dares to scoff! Attention! it's his way! Appealing from his native sod In forma pauperis to God,— “Lay bare thine arm, stretch forth thy rod, “Amen!” “That's Stonewall's way.” He's in the saddle now! Fall in! Steady! the whole brigade! Hill's at the ford, cut off; we'll win His way out, ball and blade. What matter if our shoes are worn! What matter if our feet are torn! “Quick step! we're with him before dawn!” That's “Stonewall Jackson's way!” The sun's bright lances rout the mists Of morning—and by George! Here's Longstreet, struggling in the lists, Hemmed in an ugly gorge. Pope and his Yankees whipped before! “Bay'nets aud grape!” hear Stonewall roar, “Charge Steuart! pay off Ashby's score,” In “Stonewall Jackson's way!” Ah! maiden, wait, and watch, and yearn, For news of Stonewall's band! Ah! widow read with eyes that burn, That ring upon thy hand! Ah! wife, sew on, pray on, hope on! Thy life shall not be all forlorn. The foe had better ne'er been born, That get's in “Stonewall's way.” MARTINSBURG, SEPT. 13th, 1862.