html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }They'll point them out in after years—
The men of Churubusco fight!
And tender hearts will name with tears
The gallant spirits quenched in night,
When each who under Winfield fought,
And kept the field alive,
Was equal, in the deeds he wrought,
To any common five—
They'll point them out, those veterans then,
As far beyond all common men,
And each to each, with stern delight,
Will name the Churubusco fight.
They'll sing their praise, when they're no more—
The men of Churubusco fight!
And when their latest march is o'er—
As one by one is lost to sight—
Then girls will beg his friends to spare,
From off that hoary brow,
A shred but of the scattered hair
Which waves so richly now:
And loiterers by the inn-side hearth
Will pause amid their tavern mirth,
And, filling, fear since he has pass'd,
They drink "to Churubusco's last!"
They'll paint their deeds in statued hall—
The deeds of Churubusco's fight:
And on the smoke-dried cottage wall
Will smile their pictures, brave and bright,
Who fought with stalwart Scott of yore,
That storied field to win—
When every warrior bosom bore
Five hero hearts within:
They'll legends tell of heroes then,
Far, far beyond all modern men,
And still in song will grow more bright
The deeds of Churubusco fight.