qebedo (qebedo) wrote,
qebedo
qebedo

Флейта, барабан и труба: музыка Гражданской войны в США - 4

И еще песен Славной Конфедерации...

Топ-еще-5 песен Гражданской войны в США: конфедераты

1. The Bonnie Blue Flag (Прекрасный синий флаг). Самое первое знамя Конфедерации было простым синим (а не голубым, Карл! - когда уже до придурков дойдет эта простая истина) полотнищем с белой звездой в середине. И потому с самого 1861 года эта песня про "мы банда бразерсов, ура синему флаго со звездой!" пользовалась бешеной популярностью в армии КША, уступая разве что "Дикси".



Слова:
We are a band of brothers
And native to the soil,
Fighting for the property
We gained by honest toil;
And when our rights were threatened,
The cry rose near and far--
"Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star!"
Припев:
Hurrah! Hurrah!
For Southern rights hurrah!
Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star.
As long as the Union
Was faithful to her trust,
Like friends and like brothers
Both kind were we and just;
But now, when Northern treachery
Attempts our rights to mar,
We hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star.
Припев
First gallant South Carolina
Nobly made the stand,
Then came Alabama,
Who took her by the hand.
Next quickly Mississippi,
Georgia and Florida
All raised on high the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star.
Припев
Ye men of valor, gather round
The banner of the right;
Texas and fair Louisiana
Join us in the fight.
Davis, our loved president,
And Stephens statesmen are;
Now rally round the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star.
Припев
And here's to old Virginia -
The Old Dominion State -
Who with the young Confederacy
At length has linked her fate;
Impelled by her example,
Now other states prepare
To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star.
Припев
Then cheer, boys, cheer;
Raise the joyous shout,
For Arkansas and North Carolina
Now have both gone out;
And let another rousing cheer
For Tennessee be given,
The single star of the Bonnie Blue Flag
Has grown to be eleven.
Припев
Then here's to our Confederacy,
Strong are we and brave;
Like patriots of old we'll fight
Our heritage to save.
And rather than submit to shame,
To die we would prefer;
So cheer for the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star.
Припев


2. Cotton-Eyed Joe (Хлопкоглазый Джо). Одна из самых популярных до сих пор на Юге "народных песен", которой существует 100-500 вариантов исполнения и слов. Вкратце все о ни о невозможном красавце Джо с "хлопковыми глазами", который валит девочек штабелями и разбивает сердца везде, где появляется. Ее поют, пляшут и слушают до сих пор, уже слабо помня, что появилась-то она в КША именно во времена Гражданской войны...



Слова:
Cotton-eyed Joe, Cotton-eyed Joe,
What did make you sarve me so,
Fur ter take my gal erway fum me,
An' cyar her plum ter Tennessee?
Ef it hadn't ben fur Cotton-eyed Joe,
I'd er been married long ergo.
"His eyes wuz crossed, an' his nose wuz flat,
An' his teef wuz out, but wat uv dat?
Fur he wuz tall, an' he wuz slim,
An' so my gal she follered him.
Ef it hadn't ben fur Cotton-eyed Joe,
I'd er been married long ergo.
"No gal so hansum could be foun',
Not in all dis country roun',
Wid her kinky head, an' her eyes so bright,
Wid her lips so red an' her teef so white.
Ef it hadn't ben fur Cotton-eyed Joe,
I'd been married long ergo.
"An' I loved dat gal wid all my heart,
An' she swo' fum me she'd never part;
But den wid Joe she runned away,
An' lef' me hyear fur ter weep all day.
O Cotton-eyed Joe, O Cotton-eyed Joe,
What did make you sarve me so?
O Joe, ef it hadn't er ben fur you,
I'd er married dat gal fur true


3. The Southern Soldier (Солдат-южанин). Песня - в некотром роде программный докУмент, популярно объясняющий, за что (а не за рабство поганых ниггеров!) воюет южный солдат, и за что он, собственно "килл тэт йенки солджер"...



Слова:
I'll place my knapsack on my back
My rifle on my shoulder
I'll march away to the firing line
And kill that Yankee soldier
And kill that Yankee soldier
I'll march away to the firing line
And kill that Yankee soldier
I'll bid farewell to my wife and child
Farewell to my aged mother
And go and join in the bloody strife
Till this cruel war is over
Till this cruel war is over
I'll go and join in the bloody strife
Till this cruel war is over
If I am shot on the battlefield
And I should not recover
Oh, who will protect my wife and child
And care for my aged mother
And care for my aged mother
Oh, who will protect my wife and child
And care for my aged mother
And if our Southern cause is lost
And Southern rights denied us
We'll be ground beneath the tyrant's heel
For our demands of justice
For our demands of justice
We'll be ground beneath the tyrant's heel
For our demands of justice
Before the South shall bow her head
Before the tyrants harm us
I'll give my all to the Southern cause
And die in the Southern army
And die in the Southern army
I'll give my all to the Southern cause
And die in the Southern army
If I must die for my home and land
My spirit will not falter
Oh, here's my heart and here's my hand
Upon my country's altar
Upon my country's altar
Oh, here's my heart and here's my hand
Upon my country's altar
Then Heaven be with us in the strife
Be with the Southern soldier
We'll drive the mercenary horde
Beyond our Southern border
Beyond our Southern border
We'll drive the mercenary horde
Beyond our Southern border


4. Stonewall Jackson's way (Путем Джексона Каменной Стены). Генерал Томас Джексон по прозвищу "Каменная Стена" ("Посмотрите на бригаду Джексона - он стоит, как каменная стена!") - один из идолов "белого дела", уступающий по популярности разве что самому Роберту "Мамаше" Ли. А песня - самая жутко-что-ни-на-есть-народная, ее слова нашли в кармане шинели убитого в долине Шенандоа солдата, положили на музыку и впервые исполнили в 1862 году. Смерть самого Джексона в 1863 году лишь усилила популярность оной композиции...



Слова:
Come, stack arms, men! Pile on the rails,
Stir up the camp-fire bright;
No matter if the canteen fails,
We'll make a rousing night!
Here Shenandoah brawls along,
And burly Blue-Ridge echoes strong,
To swell our brigade's rousing song
Of "Stonewall Jackson's way."
We see him now, - the old slouched hat,
Cocked o'er his eye askew;
The shrewd, dry smile, - the speech so pat,
So calm, so blunt, so true.
The "Blue-Light Elder," his foe knows well.
Says he, "that's Banks, - he don't like shell;
Lord save his soul! we'll give him hell!"
In Stonewall Jackson's way.
Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off!
Old "Blue Lights" going to pray.
Strangle the fool that dares to scoff!
Attention! it's his way.
Appealing from his native sod,
In forma pauperis to God,
Say "tare Thine arm; stretch forth thy rod,
Amen!" "That's Stonewall Jackson's way."
He's in the saddle now, Fall in!
Steady the whole brigade;
Hill's at the ford, cut off, we'll win
His way out, ball and blade!
What matter if our shoes are worn?
What matter if our feet are torn?
Quick-step! we're with him before morn!
That's "Stonewall Jackson's way."
The sun's bright lances, rout the mists,
Of morning, and by George!
Here's Longstreet, struggling in the lists,
Hemmed in an ugly gorge.
Pope and his Yankees, fierce before,
"Bay'nets and grape!" hear Stonewall roar;
"Charge, Stuart! Pay off Ashby's score!"
In "Stonewall Jackson's way."
Ah! Maiden, wait and watch and yearn
For news of Jackson's band!
Ah! Widow, read, with eyes that burn,
That ring upon thy hand;
Ah! Wife, sew on, pray on, hope on;
Thy life shall not be all forlorn
The foe had better ne'er been born
That gets in "Stonewall's way


5. I'm a Good old rebel (О, я добрый старый мятежник). Песня - своего рода эпилог к войне, от лица солдата побежденной, но не сломленной армии, жалеющего, что "убили 300 000 янки - жаль, что не 3 000 000"... Увы, как и вся "рэднековская романтика", густо заюзана всякими бандитами всех времен и народов, претендующими с каких-то перепней на "дух доброго старого Юга". В некоторых местах США оскорбляет чувства негров считается провлением нетолерантного экстремизма.



Слова:
Oh, I'm a good old Rebel
Now that's just what I am.
For this Yankee nation
I do not give a damn.
I'm glad I fought agin her,
I only wish we'd won.
I ain't asked any pardon
For anything I've done.
I hates the Constitution
This great Republic too.
I hates the Freedmen's Bureau
In uniforms of blue.
I hates the nasty eagle
With all his brag and fuss.
But the lyin', thievin' Yankees
I hates' em wuss and wuss.
I hates the Yankee nation
And everything they do.
I hates the Declaration
Of Independence too.
I hates the glorious Union --
'Tis dripping with our blood --
I hates their striped banner,
And I fit it all I could.
I rode with Robert E. Lee,
For three years, thereabouts.
Got wounded in four places
And starved at Point Lookout.
I caughts the rheumatism
A-camping in the snow.
But I killed a chance of Yankees
And I'd like to kill some mo'.
Three hundred thousand Yankees
Lie still in Southern dust
We got three hundred thousand
Before they conquered us.
They died of Southern fever
And Southern steel and shot.
I wish we'd killed three million
Instead of what we got.
I can't take up my musket
And fight 'em now no more,
But I ain't going to love 'em,
Now that is sarten sure;
I don't want no pardon
For what I was and am,
I won't be reconstructed
And I do not give a damn.

Tags: Звуки
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 22 comments