In Search of Fort Ocracoke
Call did the Major Briggs
For all the able bodied men.
He called them to kneel——to dig.
While cedars trembled in the wind
They sailed their way to Beacon Mound
To render convex their earthen hole——
Built a hollow cone forth the ground
And desired the Union to lull
Over the rocky shoals and shallows.
Savages aground, they’d show themselves, numbered sixty——
Would defend their island home hallowed
And slaughter all the enemy.
But their merucurial minds failed to comprehend
When fell Hatteras and Roanoake and Macon.
Without one shot their war found its end——
Insignificance——Butler refused to slay them.
So they packed their bags, their armaments and powder
And pushed their “fort” into the sea.
Pamlicoan backwardnes and grief sounded louder
When the only fantasy failed to be.
They returned to their huts and hovels——
They returned to their fishing stations,
And oyster shells filled what was taken by shovels,
And they redoubted their tiny nation.
Some would later fight inland and lose their life,
So small-scale replicated was the hole as family graves,
Whence ere now the corpses roll in strife,
Knowing soon their world reduced to waves.
