The author and date of this poem are unknown. It was found among the Bestor Family letters of Baltimore, Maryland. Mrs. Jane Eliza (Brown) Bestor communicated with a number of Confederate Prisoners of War, offering them aid and comfort as she sought information about her twin sons who served the Confederacy in Stonewall Jackson’s army. The poem is not particularly eloquent.
In my opinion, the author of this poem was a member of Capt. George Downs’ Moccasin Rangers—a loose Confederate partisan organization operating in Calhoun, Braxton, Webster, and Roane counties. I can’t explain the reference to “Thompson’s Command” though he might have meant Trimble’s command. It was Major George C. Trimble commanding the 11th (West) Virginia Infantry that operated against Down’s Moccasin Rangers in 1862. George Downs was captured at Big Bend on 2 July 1862 along with Capt. William Harris, Seth Rogers, Newton Ratcliff, James Morgan, and Rev. Wayne Kennedy, among others. They were confined at Camp Chase and not exchanged until November 1862.
The poem also refers to the Confederate attack on Sutton on 29 December 1861 forcing the Union garrison of 100 troopers (Co. K, 1st Virginia Cavalry) to skedaddle, leaving their stores, much of which was subsequently burned. Among the Confederates attacking Sutton were George Downs and Capt. John Sprigg. I suspect this poem dates to the autumn of 1862, possibly as late as November given that the last two words of the poem are “full mouth” which may have been a play on the word “Falmouth.”
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Camp Chase
500 poor Yankees of Thompson’s Command
Went down the Kanawha as far as the bend
Downs’ 27 line well concealed
We lost but one man, 14 we did kill.
Those Yanks at Sutton they talk very large
On the last of December them we did charge
We commenced them quite early, we give them warm play
They left all but their horses and they run away.
Was there ever so sad and so lonely a place
On this face of this earth as this horrible Camp Chase
While stay we here idle although we are bound
We have nothing to do but to scratch up the ground.
We could cut a pine plank in two in a minute
If someone only would begin it
And then skedaddle away from the place
Then bid farewell to the walls of Camp Chase.
We are wanting Old Jeff and Old Abe to arrange
Some plan to effect a general exchange
And if they do fail, then we’ll skedaddle
And then for Dixie’s Land we’ll all travel.
And as we go back, we’ll ask of Stone Jack
I think by these means we’ll stop this Curswill
The Yanks they will to nothing down drill
And when Old Abe finds he can’t whip the South
He’ll go straight home and shut up his full mouth.
