Come all Yankee soldiers, give ear to my song,
It is a short ditty, it will not keep you long;
It is of no use to fret, on account of our luck,
We can laugh, drink, and sing yet in spite of the buck.
Sergeant buck him and gag him, our officers cry,
For each triffling offence which they happen to spy,
Till with bucking and gagging of Dick, Tom, Pat and Bill,
Faith, the Mexican's ranks they have helped to fill.
The treatment they give us, as all of us know,
Is bucking and gagging for whipping the foe;
They buck and gag us for malice or spite.
But they are glad to release us when going to fight.
A poor soldier tied up in the hot sun or rain.
With a gag in his mouth till he is tortured with pain,
Why I'm blessed if the eagle, we wear on our flag.
In its claws couldn't carry a buck and a gag.
After copying the above piece of poetry, or song, we left for San Angel. In front of our quarters our company was formed into line, when one of our members took a drawing of our company and quarters. The intention is to have it lithographed in Philadelphia, Pa.
This evening the whole conversation is about peace, and that we all would be on our way home before long.
Thursday, February 3, 1848.—This morning the whole talk is about peace, peace. At noon news came from the city stating that the peace project has been signed by Mr. Trist and the Mexican Commissioners at Guadaloupa yesterday, and that Mr. Trist is now on his way to Washington; and if our Government accepts it, we will be on our way home in two months, for it takes some time to go and come from Washington. I now believe that we will have no more fighting in this country.
