 | Ballads of the War |  |
Pat O'Leary's Grave
He was the life and soul of all,
On march, in camp, so blithe and cheery,
The merriest heart e'er pierced by ball,
But laughterless lay Pat O'Leary.
On march, in camp, so blithe and cheery,
The merriest heart e'er pierced by ball,
But laughterless lay Pat O'Leary.
About our fallen friend we stood,
We felt the blankness of to-morrow,
The sword of broken brotherhood
Pierced every heart with pain and sorrow.
We felt the blankness of to-morrow,
The sword of broken brotherhood
Pierced every heart with pain and sorrow.
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We wrapped him in his blanket shroud,
There in his shallow grave we laid him,
And vows of vengeance fiercely vowed,
Vows—ah, how powerless to aid him!
There in his shallow grave we laid him,
And vows of vengeance fiercely vowed,
Vows—ah, how powerless to aid him!
No priest was there, no book nor rite,
No cloudy censer o'er him swinging;
And minds just cooling from a fight
Forgot all solemn words for singing.
No cloudy censer o'er him swinging;
And minds just cooling from a fight
Forgot all solemn words for singing.
But we remembered Christ's own prayer,
And calm and peace its saying brought us,
As leaning on our rifles there
We prayed the words our mothers taught us:
And calm and peace its saying brought us,
As leaning on our rifles there
We prayed the words our mothers taught us:
“Our Father,” we are brothers still;
The march is hard—the camp more dreary,
But somewhere, cheerly, up the hill
He'll lead us homeward, Pat O'Leary.
The march is hard—the camp more dreary,
But somewhere, cheerly, up the hill
He'll lead us homeward, Pat O'Leary.
| Ballads of the War | |