Keep a Civil War in Your Head

When brother fought brother in those old days,
and Rhett Butler strutted verandah column grays:
be polite to me, do not fight with me,
remember our union which was supposed to be.

The smell of cordite rent the morning air,
maybe a deferential salute would show that I care,
I had to be on the winning side, no more slaves,
you knew which was which by who behaves.

We passed West Virginia with smouldering ash,
ransacked some houses and stole their cash,
even if you were on our side, we'd do the same,
many years ahead, we'd always know who to blame.

There's nothing you can do, as much as you try,
relentless time wasting - you know it as well as I.