Nathan Bracken, Sgt. 133rd Pennsylvania Infantry, Company F, was killed on December 13, 1862 at the Battle of Fredericksburg.
Three and one-half years later, on June 6, 1866, his widow, Elizabeth Charity Whited Bracken, filed for a Civil War pension.
Three years, two and one-half months after that, on August 20, 1869, Elizabeth Charity Whited Bracken gave birth to William Benjamin Bracken. The father is unknown.
I've been searching for the daughter
Of the devil himself
I've been searching for an angel in white[d] Heh-heh-heh-heh.
Did the loneliness blind you in between wrong and right? Or were you just a frisky filly? Heh-heh-heh-heh. Really, tell your great-grandson, your fever was high and the wicked wind whispered and moaned, yes? You wanted someone to be kind to in between the dark and the light. You had your demons, you had desires, I know, I feel ya grandma, I feel ya, hell! I got a few of my own. Heh-heh-heh-heh.
Grandma Bracken, seriously, whaddup with that? Uncle Benny was born August 20, 1869 which means you would have gotten knocked up on or about November 20, 1868. You would have been pregnant on the sixth anniversary of your husband's death. Now, it is possible, it is possible that that was the first roll in the hay you had had since Nathan left home in August, 1862 and that you got knocked up that first time. It's possible! But the likelihood is that that was not the first time, that in your charity you had been giving away the pussy. That makes you a slut. Okay! so you're a slut. Fine! But it wasn't okay back then. If you had married the father, no one would have begrudged you; if you had named him, maybe you didn't want to get married again, some (I among them) would have understood. But you didn't which makes you just a slut. And then, to go on wearing mourning black for the rest of your days, it's insulting. Now, you're a hypocritical slut. It matters, being a hypocritical slut matters. It affected relations between your family and mine for generations. Jesus Christ, that is rude. Cold, Grandma Bracken, that is cold.
I've been searching for the daughter
Of the devil himself
I've been searching for an angel in white[d] Heh-heh-heh-heh.
Did the loneliness blind you in between wrong and right? Or were you just a frisky filly? Heh-heh-heh-heh. Really, tell your great-grandson, your fever was high and the wicked wind whispered and moaned, yes? You wanted someone to be kind to in between the dark and the light. You had your demons, you had desires, I know, I feel ya grandma, I feel ya, hell! I got a few of my own. Heh-heh-heh-heh.
Grandma Bracken, seriously, whaddup with that? Uncle Benny was born August 20, 1869 which means you would have gotten knocked up on or about November 20, 1868. You would have been pregnant on the sixth anniversary of your husband's death. Now, it is possible, it is possible that that was the first roll in the hay you had had since Nathan left home in August, 1862 and that you got knocked up that first time. It's possible! But the likelihood is that that was not the first time, that in your charity you had been giving away the pussy. That makes you a slut. Okay! so you're a slut. Fine! But it wasn't okay back then. If you had married the father, no one would have begrudged you; if you had named him, maybe you didn't want to get married again, some (I among them) would have understood. But you didn't which makes you just a slut. And then, to go on wearing mourning black for the rest of your days, it's insulting. Now, you're a hypocritical slut. It matters, being a hypocritical slut matters. It affected relations between your family and mine for generations. Jesus Christ, that is rude. Cold, Grandma Bracken, that is cold.
Who's your daddy! He-heh-heh.
