Butternuts, Johnny Reb,
Dixie boys in gray
I served with Henry Sibley
In the Army of New Mexico
We were young, and hopeful thought if not us
At least our deeds would be remembered forever
Like the Alamo
But nobody remembers the dead who died
In forgotten wars
Or the fallen in battkes
Unremembered with any glory or notice
We were supposed to run the Feds
Down through the Glorieta Pass
And hoped we could get rid of them
From the territory
But they stood mostly
I saw comrades die in Apache Canyon
All the way up through the pass
And there I died
In time
My bones were buried
But I was an orphan
Nobody remembered me or cried
But the vultures
Circled the battle field
And the sun beat down
Cooking the Sante Fe county grass
In early Spring
The blood baked
And no harvest would yield
But my memory remains
Laying in the ground
Shattered by a Fed bullet
Running for my life
Died in the Spring sun
Never to be found
