"Battle of Criple Creek"
[known by the Confederacy as Oak Hills]
[fought on 14 August 1861]
[aka "Joe Steiner", "Joe Stiner", "Joe Slinsworth"]
Worda and Music-- anonymous

[Source: from the "Max Hunter Folk Song Collection".
Melody and words at 
http://www.missouristate.edu/folksong/MaxHunter/0132/index.html]

1.
My name it is Joe Steiner.
I came from Amsterdam.
I am a full blood dutchman
From that there is no sham.
I came up to this country
Because th' land is free
And here I make much money;
O, that's the place for me.

2.
One day as I was drink'n
Mine glass of lager beer
And think'n of th' freedom
Of this country here,
They all cried out this union,
This union mighty loud
Then makes us walk together
In a very big dutch crowd.

3.
And then they say we've got to fight
This union for to save.
Mine God, mine heav'nly Father
What a country that we have.
The very first think that we done
Was go with General Frost,
Rob women and children along th' road
Thru the country that we cross'd.

4.
And when we came to Rolly,
We make th' rebels run.
We make them get in every style.
It was such glorious fun.
And then we came to Springfield,
And then we stopped and stayed
Until our General Lyon
Had got his plans well laid.

5.
They say that General Price has got
Most of th' rebel force
Camped down away down on Wilson Creek
And mighty well fixed, of course,
And so we go down there
About a mile away.
And then our batteries, they did crack.
Our rifles they did play.

6.
I'll tell you what I see there.
I never shall forget.
Seems th' ground was all alive
With those seecesstioness.
Their blamed old rifles shoot so true,
I cannot tell you why.
They strike us in our stomach.
They hit us in our eye.

7.
They killed our General Lyon.
They makes our Seegar run.
Some of 'em hid in the cottage.
I'll tell you it was no fun.
They killed our men, they took our guns,
They knocked us in t' fits,
And many a prisoner too, they took
But I gets up and gets.

8.
And now I am in Springfield.
My legs are almost broke.
And for th' want of lager beer,
I am so nearly choked.
This blamed old rebel country
Will never do for me.
I, vamish, run, I gets away
For th' city of Saint Louie.

9.
And if I live to get there,
May I be roasted done
If ever I shoot at a rebel again
For money, love or fun.
I sets myself down by my frau.
I heard my children cry.
And this will be my dutch cry,
I bid you all good-bye.