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"Where is your home?" he growled again.
She lisped out, "Who is me?
Why, don't you know I'm little Jane,
The pride of Battery B?
"My home? Why, that was burnt away,
And Pa and Ma is dead;
But now I ride the guns all day,
Along with Sergeant Ned.
"And I've a drum that's not a toy,
And a cap with feathers too;
And I march beside the drummer-boy
On Sundays at review.
"But now our baccy's all give out
The men can't have their smoke,
And so they're cross; why even Ned
Won't play with me, and joke!
"And the big colonel said to-day--
I hate to hear him swear--
'I'd give a leg for a good smoke
Like the Yanks have over there.'
"And so I thought when beat the drum,
And the big guns were still,
I'd creep beneath the tent, and come
Out here across the hill.
"And beg, good Mr. Yankee-men,
You'd give me some Long Jack;
Please do, when we get some again,
I'll surely bring it back.
"And so I came; for Ned, says he,
'If you do what you say,
You'll be a general yet, maybe,
And ride a prancing bay.


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