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作词 : Traditional |
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He was just a blue-eyed boston boy, |
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His voice was low with pain. |
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i'll do your bidding, comrade mine, |
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If i ride back again. |
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But if you ride back and i am left, |
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You'll do as much for me, |
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Mother, you know, must hear the news, |
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So write to her tenderly. |
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she's waiting at home like a patient saint, |
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Her fond face pale with woe. |
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Her heart will be broken when i am gone, |
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I'll see her soon, i know. |
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Just then the order came to charge, |
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For an instance hand touched hand. |
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They said, ''aye,'' and away they rode, |
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That brave and devoted band. |
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Straight was the track to the top of the hill, |
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The rebels they shot and shelled, |
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Plowed furrows of death through the toiling ranks, |
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And guarded them as they fell. |
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There soon came a horrible dying yell |
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From heights that they could not gain, |
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And those whom doom and death had spared |
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Rode slowly back again. |
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But among the dead that were left on the hill |
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Was the boy with the curly hair. |
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The tall dark man who rode by his side |
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Lay dead beside him there. |
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There's no one to write to the blue-eyed girl |
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The words that her lover had said. |
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Momma, you know, awaits the news, |
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And she'll only know he's dead. |
