Analysis of Mary'S heights

As we ran towards
the guns o'er the fields,
and up Mary's Heights
in Fredericksburg, Virginia.
The Butternut Boys
of the Army of Virginia,
and we of the Irish Brigade,
the Fifth of New York,
frayed away midst
smooth bore balls that did yield
men like wheat...save the blades
of the war -- hell we saw.
With its confusion, its fear,
its injuries so severe,
and the angel of death
that took my good lads today.

Life leaked from my lads
forming a lake of sorrow
at the bottom of the heights,
that cost so very much to climb.
As the battle was over,
and the last of us left the field,
most of us dragging our muskets,
horrified for the morrow,
and for the Union
should it ever fall, or stumble;
a crime it'd be for all the men,
the blood, the pain left for swine,
pushing at the brush
attempting to come, I hear the squeals.
My God it's so repulsive to think
of this fight yesterday and today.

So many men left for
the grave diggers; a job for their slaves.
As we marched on to
Chancellorsville, to cover the retreat.
We'll bivouac there
and wait for The Army of the Potomac
to cross over to the Union side;
I'm hoping for a chance sleep.
The Stonewall Brigade
had different ideas and the line gave,
running backwards, stopping and firing,
too many to stand and meet.
The whole army is running to the river;
a general sent 'em back.
Didn't last long we were all pushed
o'er the river: Lost this fight today...