In answer to your questionWhere do I come fromI died in MississippiIn 1881But let’s go back to the beginningWhen no one knew what lay aheadBefore the mighty riverRan redI’ll paint for you a pictureOf that summer nightWhen a difference of opinionEscalated to a fightDinner cold upon the tableMother weeping close at handShe said, “Boys, a houseDivided cannot stand”Across the amber waves of grainWe heard the cannons roarThe caissons rollingAnd the cry of civil warI’ve been sent to tell youTo find some common groundI’m the ghost of VicksburgAnd I shot my brother downSo we both enlistedOpposite sidesOne to march with ShermanOne for Pemberton to rideWe donned the uniformsThat soon were torn and frayedAnd pledged allegianceTo the blue and to the greyOn Chickasaw that morningThe light was dimBut by the slope of his shoulderI knew that it was himHe raised up his rifleAnd it chilled me to the boneFor his shot went wideAnd mine, dear God, struck home