One day him an'
his two sons was a workin' in the field an' all of a suddent they heard
a drum and fife over in the road. The boys looked with big eyes an' the
old man clim' up on the fence and shouted, 'whut's the matter here?' and
a man with red, white an' blue ribbons on his arm cried out, 'Old Andy
Jackson needs soldiers to go to New Orleans.' An' my grandaddy he turns
roun' to the youngsters an' says, 'Come on boys.' They went, suh, an'
one of them boys he didn't come back. Wall, the years passed an' my
daddy an' my oldest brother was a workin' in that same field, a raisin'
of his co'n an' a makin' of his licker--an' mind you the gover'ment
never had opened its chops, fur it was good licker--an' all at once jest
like years befo' there came a beatin' of drums an' a blowin' of fifes
over in the road. An' my daddy clim' up on the fence an' says, 'Whut's
the matter now?' An' a man tuck a fife outen his mouth an' shouts,
'Mexico has trod on us an' we need soldiers.' An' my daddy turns, he
does, an' says to my brother, 'Come on Bob.
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