*When Johnny Comes Marching Home*
~Sequenced by Barry Taylor~

Poems Dedicated to the Southern Sons
by Zacharias Beau Tims

Why Do It?
(A Confederate reenactor's prespective)

In my heart I am my ancestor. I wear my uniform, gray like his. If only I could name my rifle what he named his. If only my hat could become as crumpled. Did he have buttons like mine or did he have a Bible in his haversack like me? Did he have shoes? How lost in time all the answers stray even though I ask every time I wear the gray. But yes, it is at least true, that we both march under the same flag.
That is why I do it.

In my mind I know that I will never share the sorrows or feel starvation in every bone as my ancestor. He carried led on his belt where I but carry powder. I watch men rise again off the green fields when taps is sounded. My ancestor could only help bury those who lay. Lost in time are those heroic and tragic deeds that I cannot myself obtain. But yes, it is true, that we both honor our heritage.
That is why I do it.

I reenact the acts of my ancestor. Where once he was a living Confederate soldier, I, am living history. The same sun that shown on his back and gleamed from his bayonet, too, shines upon mine. The same love for the South and its liberty that fired his heart in 1864 burns my hear too, 2004. As my ancestor's glory is maintined, I have yet to gain.
That is why I do what I do.

The South's gray sands of time fall ever so fast as I grow. Where I am from and the sand that has fallen is all that I am. A living Southron soldier in a heritage of Southron ghosts. I do Thy will as they did. And just as they I will follow my captain into the weekend though they followed there's to Heaven. Though I will not shed the blood that I share with my ancestor, I will shoulder my rifle with pride for the flag that we share.
That is why I do it.



GRAY SON

At high noon the sun was gray.
It was at its brightest, burning the Skies.
Like freedom and independence,
The gray light covered the land.

In this bright day, too, shines the stars.
Oh the Southern stars are so bright
Through the gray sun’s wings.
They show the black plumes, fiery gallops, and
Silver deeds. Light Division, Stonewall Brigade,
Foot cavalry, flying Artillery,
‘Tis are the names of the star constellations.
There he stands like a great star wall
Keeping the blue horizon of the enemy at bay.

Alas, no star as bright as this, the gray sun of day.
Glowing from high noon.
Though storms rise upon the
Horizons, and the floods rise above every shore
No day was ever brighter than this day when the
Gray sun glows upon the land.
It is the gray sun upon a pale horse.

For the people of the Southern land
and the great spirit in the Southern sky,
The gray son fights for both.
When the Bull Run creek ran warm with blood
Until the Appomattox River ran cold with defeat,
The Gray son did his duty in all things.
The Gray sun set in the South, yet had let its rays
Shine through the souls of all who cherish
Duty and freedom. The gray sun shall
Rise again someday from the Southern horizon
and flood through every cloud.
Rise again Gray son from the shrine
where you rest.
You are Robert E. Lee and may your soul rise with
The great spirit in the Southern sky and guard over thee.

-Zacharias Beauregard Tims

January 30,2000
Season of the Confederacy

Cavaliers of the Confederacy,
Gallop across yawning battlefields,
Let your sabers sweep from your scabbards
And raise them on high through the Southern sky.
Let your black plumes bounce gloriously
Upon your hats as you raid each enemy plain.
For your homes, for your land, for your
Country's hope, all for the
Season of the Confederacy!

Soldiers of Dixie, not a poor man's fight
But a proud man's fight for independence,
For the Season of the Confederacy.
Move upon the land like a curly banner,
Marching against each sun of battle,
Rally together, with every ball and blade,
Advance the heights or trench in with the spade.
Victory or death! For your homes, for your land,
For your country's hope, all for the
Season of the Confederacy!


Flags of Dixie, Southern Cross of honor,
Unfurl above the sons in every battle.
Let the noble son's of the South
Rally under it, as the banner ripples through each volley.
The blue cross upon the scarlet thread rushing
Forward with your Thirteen stars of independence.
All for the Season of the Confederacy!
For your homes, for your land, for your countries hope,
Noble, and free people of this glorious Season, rise up
And sing martial music, for the day of Dixie is on high.
The day that freedom has won for us.
Let Stuart and his cavalry Jine forever.
Let "Stonewall" Jackson,
Turn the Blue Ridge Mountains into a crown of fire.
Each infantry’s step on native sod.

Let General Lee ride upon his mount among his boys
whom follow him without rations.
People of Dixie, let you always be Free.
For your homes, for your land, for your countries hope,
All for the Season of the Confederacy.

-Zacharias Tims

Heritage, Not Hate

More to come!

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Our National Anthem..*S*








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