Geschrieben am 19. Oktober 2013 von für Crimemag, Krimigedicht

Krimigedicht: The Call of Quantrill

William_Clark_QuantrillThe Call of Quantrill

Up! comrades, up! The moons in the west, and the hounds of old Pennock will find out our nest.
We must be gone ere the dawning of day; the Quantrill they seek shall be far, far away.
Their toils after us shall ever be vain. Let them scout through the brush and scour the plain;
Well pass through their midst in the dead of the night. We are lions in combat and eagles in flight.

Rouse, my brave boys, up, up and away; press hard on the foe ere the dawning of day;
Look well to your steeds so gallant in chase. May they never give o’er till they win in the race.

When old Pennock is weary and the chase given o’er, we’ll pass through their midst and bathe in their gore. We’ll come as a thunderbolt comes from the cloud; we’ll smite the oppressor and humble the proud. Few shall escape us and few shall be spared, for keen is our saber, in vengeance ’tis bared; For none are so strong, so mighty in fight, as the the warrior who battles for our Southern right.

Rouse, my brave boys, up, up and away; press hard on the foe ere the dawning of day;
Look well to your steeds so gallant in chase. May they never give o’er till they win in the race.

Though the bush is our home, the green sod our bed, our drink from the river, and roots for our bread, We pine not for more; we bow not the head, for freedom is ever within the green wood.

Tyrants shan’t conquer and fetters shan’t bind, for true are our rifles; our steeds like the wind.
We’ll sheathe not the sword; we’ll draw not the rein, till Pennock is banished from valley and plain.

Rouse, my brave boys, up, up and away; press hard on the foe ere the dawning of day;
Look well to your steeds so gallant in chase. May they never give o’er till they win in the race.

This song was reportably the favorite of Jesse James.

(ca.1864)

Anmerkung (AM)

Men of Missouri

Sie sind elf, allesamt Blutsverwandte von Guerillas, zwei von ihnen die Frauen von Wildwood Boys des Bloody Bill Anderson, die älteste von ihnen zwanzig Jahre alt. Sie werden in Kansas City gefangengehalten, im zweiten Stock eines Warenhauses, und sie singen jeden Abend trotzig ihre Lieder. Sie sind Partei im amerikanischen Bürgerkrieg, der entlang der Kansas-Missouri Grenze als Guerilla-Krieg besonders blutrünstig ausgetragen wird. James Carlos Blake lässt diese Zeit und ihre harten Männer und Frauen in seinen „Wildwood Boys“ auferstehen, aus denen diese Szene und das zitierte Lied stammen (Seite 211/212). Es ist dem berüchtigten Partisanenführer William Clark Quantrill gewidmet. Alf Mayers „Blutige Ernte“: James Carlos Blake.

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