Forlorn posts leading, thirty long years fought I
Stoutly and well on freedom’s battle plain;
Hopeless of triumph, never hoped or thought I
Safe and uninjured home to see again.
I watch’d both day and night, slept not a tittle,
As when I camp’d amongst my friends of yore;
(And if I felt inclined to doze a little,
I soon was waken’d by my neighbour’s snore.)
In those long nights ennui would oft assail me,
And fear as well,—(’tis fools who never fear;)
To scare them, I delighted to regale me
With whistling songs all full of gibe and jeer.
Yes, watchfully I stood, my weapon grasping,—
If a suspicious looking fool drew nigh,
I took a careful aim, and laid him gasping
With a hot bullet in his paunch or thigh.
But by-and-by, if I may so express it,
This clumsy fool, whom I so much deride,
Proves the best shot; and now, I must confess it,
My blood pours forth, my wounds are gaping wide.
A post is vacant! All my wounds are gaping—
One falls, the others follow in his wake;
Unvanquish’d fall I,—from my hands escaping
My arms break not, my heart alone doth break.