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Hard Crackers Come Again No More

an anonymous Civil War camp song, adapted from Hard Times Come Again No More by Stephen Collins Foster (1855)


    Let us close our game of poker,
    Take our tin cups in hand,
    While we gather round the cook's tent door.
    Where dry mummies of hard crackers
    Are given to each man;
    Oh, hard crackers come again no more!

    'Tis the song and the sigh of the hungry,
    Hard crackers, hard crackers, come again no more!
    Many days have you lingered upon our stomachs sore,
    Oh, hard crackers, come again no more.


    There's a hungry, thirsty soldier,
    Who wears his life away,
    With torn clothes, whose better days are o'er;
    He is sighing now for whiskey,
    And, with throat as dry as hay,
    Sings, Hard crackers come again no more.

    'Tis the song and the sigh of the hungry,
    Hard crackers, hard crackers, come again no more!
    Many days have you lingered upon our stomachs sore,
    Oh, hard crackers, come again no more.


    'Tis the song that is uttered
    In camp by night and day,
    'Tis the wail that is mingled with each snore;
    'Tis the sighing of the soul
    For spring chickens far away,
    Oh, hard crackers come again no more.

    'Tis the song and the sigh of the hungry,
    Hard crackers, hard crackers, come again no more!
    Many days have you lingered upon our stomachs sore,
    Oh, hard crackers, come again no more.





Hard Tack Come Again No More

an anonymous Civil War camp song, often attributed to Josiah Fowler, First Iowa Infantry (June 1861)


    Let us close our game of poker,
    Take our tin cups in our hand,
    As we all stand by the cook's tent door
    As dried mummies of hard tack
    Are handed to each man.
    O, hard tack, come again no more!

    'Tis the song, the sigh of the hungry:
    Hard tack, hard tack, come again no more.
    Many days you have lingered upon our stomachs sore.
    O, hard tack, come again no more!

    'Tis a hungry, thirsty soldier
    Who wears his life away
    In torn clothes — his better days are o'er.
    And he's sighing now for whiskey
    In a voice as dry as hay,
    O, hard tack, come again no more!

    'Tis the song, the sigh of the hungry:
    Hard tack, hard tack, come again no more.
    Many days you have lingered upon our stomachs sore.
    O, hard tack, come again no more!

    'Tis the wail that is heard
    In camp both night and day,
    'Tis the murmur that's mingled with each snore.
    'Tis the sighing of the soul
    For spring chickens far away,
    O, hard tack, come again no more!

    'Tis the song, the sigh of the hungry:
    Hard tack, hard tack, come again no more.
    Many days you have lingered upon our stomachs sore.
    O, hard tack, come again no more!

    But to all these cries and murmurs,
    There comes a sudden hush
    As frail forms are fainting by the door,
    For they feed us now on horse feed
    That the cooks call mush!
    O, hard tack, come again once more!

    'Tis the dying wail of the starving:
    O, hard tack, hard tack, come again once more!
    You were old and very wormy, but we pass your failings o'er.
    O, hard tack, come again once more!




Hard Tack Come Again No More

variant of the anonymous Civil War camp song, attributed to Josiah Fowler, First Iowa Infantry


    There's a lazy, hungry soldier
    And he lies around all day;
    His clothes are torn,
    His better days are o'er;
    He sighs for nice hot biscuits,
    And spring chickens far away,
    O hard tack come again no more.
    It's the song and the sigh of the weary,
    Hard tack, hard tack, come again no more;
    Long time have you lingered
    'Round the cook-tent door,
    O hard tack come again no more.
    It's the song and the sigh of the hungry,
    Hard tack, hard tack, come again once more;
    You were old and very wormy,
    But you're pie beside that mush,
    O hard tack, come again once more.





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