To
Mrs. Mary R. Atkinson
"A Voice from
Libby" [1865]
Words and Music by
D[amaris]. L. Atkinson.

[Lithographer] G. F. Swain
Philadelphia, PA: J. MARSH, 1029 Chestnut St.
New York, NY: S. T. Gordon.
Boston, MA: O. Ditson & Co.
[M 1640
  .A]
[Acc. No. 57716]
[Engraver] Porter.
[Source: civilwardigital.com]

NOTE: Libby Prison was a Confederate prison at 
Richmond, Virginia, during the American Civil War.

Last Tuesday eve ’twas just one year,
Since Harry, Will and I were here,
Ah! little we thought as we chatted so gay,
Ere three months had pass’d I’d be far away.

Far away from home and friends I went,
For our boys to the Potomac soon were sent,
And there encountering the Rebel Grays;
We bravely fought for many days.

As man by man would lie down and die,
The battle waged fiercer, the shells whizzed by,
But while we were fighting the cry was raised,
The rebels fly, and “God be praised!”

But they fled not far ere they rallied again,
And then in my heart there came great pain,
In the arms of a comrade I fainted away,
Shot in the heart I heard them say.

Upon the field of battle I was left for dead,
’Till the rebels came with stealthly tread,
And finding I lived, they bore me away;
Only to die another day.

And now with comrades in Libby I lie,
Wishing to end the struggle and die,
My brain is turned with the gnawing pain,
Mother in Heaven we’ll meet again.

  Starved to death, oh mother dear,
Would, Will, and Harry and you were here;
Ah no! not here to starving lie,
But only to kiss me ere I die.

Mother dear I know you’d greet,
Your long lost son with welcome sweet;
But all I ask should e’er we meet,
Oh! Mother give me enough to eat.