36
poems.
And I see the gleaming metal
Of their tried and trusty swords.
Of their tried and trusty swords.
But I am lying here, mother,
Low upon my dying bed;
And the sun is sinking slowly—
Mother, dearest! hold my head.
Low upon my dying bed;
And the sun is sinking slowly—
Mother, dearest! hold my head.
Press me to your bosom nearer,
Hold me in your arms so tight,
Kiss me once more, my mother, dear,
Bid your volunteer good night.
Hold me in your arms so tight,
Kiss me once more, my mother, dear,
Bid your volunteer good night.
If my comrades ask you, mother,
For the soldier true and tried,
Tell them, that in your arms, mother,
He breathed his last and died.
For the soldier true and tried,
Tell them, that in your arms, mother,
He breathed his last and died.
Tell them, mother, on to victory;
Tell them, free their much-loved land;
Tell them, I'll be waiting for them,
'Mong the glorious, happy band.
Tell them, free their much-loved land;
Tell them, I'll be waiting for them,
'Mong the glorious, happy band.
Kiss me, mother; I am going!
I know that Jesus now is near.
And gently, as the sun was setting,
Died the brave young volunteer.
I know that Jesus now is near.
And gently, as the sun was setting,
Died the brave young volunteer.
