text: I was the first fruits of the battle of Missionary Ridge.
  When I felt the bullet enter my heart
  I wished I had staid at home and gone to jail
  For stealing the hogs of Curl Trenary,
  Instead of running away and joining the army.
  Rather a thousand times the county jail
  Than to lie under this marble figure with wings,
  And this granite pedestal Bearing the words, Pro Patria.
  What do they mean, anyway?