The fleeting current rages
But high tide is no more.
The turning of the pages
As union cannons roar.

A few more days to tarry
But what about the cost,
The battle can't be carried.
The waters have been lost.

Barely seven thousand men
Resist the torrent's tide.
The beginning of the end:
Southern' stream must subside.

The fleeting water settles 
Within capturing banks.
Too tired to lift their metal;
They yield the fields to Yanks.

Surrounded by their captures
Awaiting destiny.
They'll not know of the rapture
Of being truly free.

Goodbye Fleeting Current
God bless your misery.
The Feds were your deterrent
From flowing to the sea

Washed from your shores forever:
Entrapped by man-made slopes.
The tie that binds has severed.
The tattered treads of hope.




As the ripple fades away so do the glory days of the Confederacy. Yet 
are we not better Confederate Americans due to the tide rising and washing 
all the ills of the nation away?  Can we not hold our heads high and be 
proud of those men and women of yesteryear that gave all for their beliefs?  
We are who we are because of who they were and we must remain grateful.