108
FIFES AND DRUMS
Perhaps his shoulder brushed your own
Or he slept last night by you.
My fathers followed Washington
Into the forests dim,
The blood of Warren at Bunker Hill
In my veins runs from him,
When Perry crossed from ship to ship
They bent their arms to row,
They faced the Mexicans' livid hail
In the shattered Alamo.
The Susquehanna knew their tents,
They perished at Bull Run,
Shenandoah saw our dead
Staring at the sun;
We marched with Sherman to the sea,
Starved at Andersonville,
And one of us died by the barbed-wire fence
Under San Juan Hill.
