Old Rover is waiting, eager to follow the trail with you,
Whistle a tune as you go, laddie, whistle a tune as you go.
Laddie, little laddie, there's a flash of a bluebird's wing.
O hush! If we wait and listen we may hear him carolling.
The vesper song of the thrushes, and the plaint of the whip-poor-wills—
Sweet, how sweet is the music, laddie, over the twilit hills.
Brother, little brother, your childhood is passing by,
And the dawn of a noble purpose I see in your thoughtful eye.
You have many a mile to travel and many a task to do,—
Whistle a tune as you go, laddie, whistle a tune as you go.
Laddie, soldier laddie, a call comes over the sea,
A call to the best and bravest in the land of liberty,
To shatter the despot s power, to lift up the weak that fall,—
Whistle a song as you go, laddie, to answer your country's call.
Brother, soldier brother, the Spring has come back again,
But her voice from the windy hilltops is calling your name in vain;
For never shall we together mid the birds and the blossoms roam
Over the hills of home, brother, over the hills of home.
Laddie! Laddie! Laddie! 'Somewhere in France' you sleep,
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