Story Behind The Song

Inspired by the Forest Hill Cemetery, the northernmost Confederate rest, in Madison, WI.

Lyrics

The Boys of Forest Hill





In Eighteen hundred sixty one
The north's aggression had begun
And every Southern man and boy agreed
The Southern troops were looking fine
They'd have 'em licked by Christmastime
And all be home to celebrate the deed
By Eighteen hundred sixty two
They'd all learned a thing or two
And resigned themselves to what they had in store
So Alabama's finest sons
Left their farms and picked up guns
Said goodbye and headed off to war

Kiss your women hard and slow
Drink one last whiskey from the still
You're headed north and its time to go
You boys of Forest Hill



Even though they feared the worst
Things went pretty well at first
Until they reached the Mississippi shores
There on island number 10
Just beyond the river bend
The Union army met them with full force
The mortars came in fast and hard
And word came down from Beauregard
To make their final stand at New Madrid
He said the fort could not be lost
To fight no matter what the cost
And that's exactly what they did

For 20 days and 20 nights
They faced their greatest test of will
And to man, they stayed to fight
The boys of Forest Hill







When the white flag finally came
They put 900 boys in chains
And marched them through Camp Randall's stony gate
Where the winter ground was cold and rough
And there was hardly food enough
And nothing for a man to do but wait
For these sorry volunteers
The months were turning into years
While miles away the war was dragging on
The news from home was never good
And in the end they understood
All that they'd been fighting for was gone

You survived the bullets boys
But it's the loneliness that kills
All alone so far from home
The boys of Forest Hill



I was walking with my dog
Through the early morning fog
And stumbled on these cemetery stones
There were no flowers on the ground
There were no tributes to be found
The bushes were wild and overgrown
The names are mostly worn away
Nothing much to see today
Their stories never will be known
But this is where they can be found
Deep beneath the Yankee ground
The boys who never made it home

Generations come and gone
And they're lying out there still
So when you're there say a little prayer
For the boys of Forest Hill