“What happened?” he croaked. “Well, you can ask,” Said Bristol, drawling, “But don’t ask me, For any facts of the jamboree. I reckon we’ve been to an Irish wake Or maybe cuttin’ a johnny-cake With most of the Union cavalry-corps. I don’t know yet, but it was a war. Are you crazy still? You were for a piece. You yelled you were Destiny’s long-lost niece And wanted to charge the whole Yank line Because they’d stolen your valentine. You fought like a fool but you talked right wild. You got a bad bump, too.” Wingate smiled “I reckon I did, but I don’t know when. Did we win or what?” “And I say again,” Said Bristol, heavily, “don’t ask me. Inquire of General Robert Lee. I know we’re in for a long night ride And they say we got whipped on the other side. What’s left of the Troop are down by the road. We lost John Leicester and Harry Spode