作曲 : Traditional Song
 A life on the Vicksburg bluff,
 A home in the trenches deep,
 Where we dodge "Yank" shells enough,
 And our old "pea-bread" won't keep.
 On "old Logan's" beef I pine,
 For there's fat on his bones no more
 Oh! give me some pork and brine,
 And truck from a sutlers store.
 A life on the Vicksburg bluff,
 A home in the trenches deep,
 When we dodge "Yank" shells enough,
 And our old pea-bread won't keep,
 Pea-bread Pea-bread, our old pea-bread won't keep.
 Pea-bread Pea-bread, our old pea-bread won't keep.
 Old Grant is starving us out,
 Our grub is fast wasting away,
 Pemb' don't know what he's about,
 And he hasn't for many a day,
 So we'll bury "old Logan" tonight,
 From tough beef we'll be set free
 We'll put him far out of sight,
 No more of his meat for me.
 A life on the Vicksburg bluff,
 A home in the trenches deep,
 When we dodge "Yank" shells enough,
 And our old pea-bread won't keep,
 Pea-bread Pea-bread, our old pea-bread won't keep.
 Pea-bread Pea-bread, our old pea-bread won't keep.
 Texas steers are no longer in view,
 Mule steaks are now "done up 'brown, "
 While peabread, mule roast and mule stew,
 Is our fare in Vicksburg town;
 And the song of our hearts shall be,
 While the Yanks and their gunboats rave;
 A life in a bomb-proof for me,
 And a tear on "old Logan's" grave.
 A life on the Vicksburg bluff,
 A home in the trenches deep,
 When we dodge "Yank" shells enough,
 And our old pea-bread won't keep,
 Pea-bread Pea-bread, our old pea-bread won't keep.
 Pea-bread Pea-bread, our old pea-bread won't keep.
 Like a rebel caged I pine
 And I dodge when the cannons roar
 If they give me corn dodgers and swine
 And I'll stay forever more
 Once more in the trench I stand
 With my own far-ranging gun
 Should the fray come hand to hand
 Yes? I'll wager my rations, I run!
 A life on the Vicksburg bluff,
 A home in the trenches deep,
 When we dodge "Yank" shells enough,
 And our old pea-bread won't keep,
 Pea-bread Pea-bread, our old pea-bread won't keep.
 Pea-bread Pea-bread, our old pea-bread won't keep.
 The trenches no longer in view
 The shells begun to fall
 Tis' the sound I hate. Don't you?
 Into my rat hole I'll crawl
 The bullets may wistle by
 And the terrible bombs come down
 But give me full rations, and I
 We'll stay in my hole in the ground
 A life on the Vicksburg bluff,
 A home in the trenches deep,
 When we dodge "Yank" shells enough,
 And our old pea-bread won't keep,
 Pea-bread Pea-bread, our old pea-bread won't keep.
 Pea-bread Pea-bread, our old pea-bread won't keep.