Song Of A Brigadier

I wear a splendid uniform; I ride a splendid nag; I talk both loud and valiantly Of Honor and the Flag; But let the South be easy still, Her soldiers need not fear. Ne'er shot nor blow shall lay them low While I'm a Brigadier. I canter gaily through the streets, Attended by my staff, Unheeding vulgar little boys Who hoot and stare and chaff; And such a staff! all foreign names, Quite wonderful to hear, Plain Yankee boys aren't good enough For such a Brigadier. I've Baron This and Duke of That, And Prince of 'Tother, too, The people ask me, 'What on earth I have for them to do?' 'Tis plain to all but vulgar minds, I want a kindred sphere; There's nought like title, blood and style, To aid a Brigadier! No bloody wounds or hurts for me Perhaps I am a sham; But Politics and Influence Have placed me where I am; I give my dinners, draw my pay, Drink brandy, wine or beer, And mean to have a jolly time While I'm a Brigadier. Investigations pass me by, Committees raise no row, No one expects that I will fight -- And faith, I don't know how! I'm not for use, but ornament, So each day I appear, In buttons, braid, in gold arrayed -- A fancy Brigadier. There are plenty in the field Who really like to fight -- Give me money and good clothes, And I'll be harmless quite, Yet there is something on my mind, That I can't quite make clear, How can the Government afford My style of Brigadier!