But the little boys thought the captain was even finer, He looked just like a captain out of a book With his sword and his shoulderstraps and his discipline-face. He wasn’t just Henry Fairfield, he was a captain, —Henry Fairfield worried about his sword, Hoping to God that he wouldn’t drop his sword, And wondering hotly whether his discipline-face Really looked disciplined or only peevish⁠— “ Yeah! There they come! There’s Jack! There’s Charlie! Yeah! Yeah!” The color-guard with the stiff, new flapping flag, And the ranks and the ranks and the ranks, the amateur Blue, wavering ranks, in their ill-fitting tight coats, Shoulders galled already by their new guns, —They were three-months’ men, they had drilled in civilian clothes Till a week ago⁠—“There’s Charlie! There’s Hank, yeah, yeah!” “On to Richmond, boys! Three cheers for Abe Lincoln! Three cheers for the boys! Three groans for old Jeff Davis