Sung by: Sara Jo Fendley
Recorded at the Leslie Homecoming, 6/13/63

Click here to listen to the original recording

Come, all you sons of Iowa, come listen to my song.
If you’ll but pay attention, I won’t detain you long.
‘Twas of the gallant charges we made at Prairie Grove,
Where we and Southern rebels in unequal numbers strove.

Our officers were brave leaders; they led us with good will.
Although we were outnumbered, we charged them off the hill
And, volley after volley, our shots were made to tell
‘Til our lieutenant colonel and sergeant major fell.

Through fields of blood we waded, our cannon loud did roar
‘Til heaps of mangled soldiers lay bleeding in their gore.
Yes, heaps of mangled soldiers upon the field did lay
That had been killed or wounded from the Nineteenth Iowa.

Those Rebels fought us bravely, in hopes to gain the day,
‘Til General Blunt’s artillery upon them began to play.
It caused such a havoc it put them all to flight,
And they withdrew their forces in the cover of the night.

Next morning we were sorry to see those Rebels’ wives
A-hunting their dead husbands--their melancholy cries!--
And sisters finding brothers, they wrung their hands and cried,
“Oh, my dear bloody brothers, yes, for Southern rights you died.”

Now the battle, it's over; our men rest from their toil.
We carefully buried all our dead beneath the southern soil.
We buried them in order, as formed on dress parade,
And placed a board at each man’s head, to show where he was laid.

Also found in Randolph, Vol. II, #222, "Prairie Grove."

All Songs Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr., unless otherwise noted

The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection
Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas
Back to the Song Index
Back to the Wolf Collection Homepage
©Copyright 2002 Lyon College