14
SONG OF HUBBARDTON RAID
In the town of green and purple slates.
Whoever died for miles around,
This numerous and savage class,
This class of savage students,
Was sure to adorn these tables,
Their flesh would feed the students' fire,
In this land of slates and quarries.
The friends would deck the graves,
Deck the mounds with fragrant flowers,
And drop a tear o'er empty coffins,
Coffins rifled of their contents,
In this Green Mountain Athens,
In this town of slates and quarries,
Quarries of green and purple slates,
Slates that never fade nor tarnish.
When the chill winds of November
Were sifting the snow flakes through the branches,
Through the dry branches of the trees,
