Poems. Crocket McElroy

along.

      How the cannons roared and the bullets hissed

       And many comrades from the ranks were missed;

       How the Captains shouted high and higher

       “Stand your ground, boys, load and fire, load and fire,”

       As the old soldier was fighting along.

      How just as the works of the rebels fell,

       His eye was ruined by a piece of shell,

       And just as the boys were scaling the wall,

       His leg was broken by a cannon ball,

       Broken and smashed by a cannon ball.

      How sad his thoughts as he lay on the ground,

       And felt he was dying from his death wound;

       But roused by the cheers for victory won,

       And sweet consolation for duty well done,

       The old hero is still coming along.

      How he thought as he lay a plan to contrive,

       To show his comrades he still was alive,

       And held up his cap with his musket high,

       So the boys could see it as they passed by,

       Poor suff’ring soldier not ready to die.

      How the boys soon came with an ambulance,

       And gathered him in by good luck and chance,

       For holding up his cap was taking his breath,

       And well they knew he was bleeding to death,

       The brave old soldier was bleeding to death.

      How the surgeons laid him on a rough board,

       And took off his leg not saying a word,

       They looked at his eye, “ ’Tis useless,” they said,

       “Boys, take him away and put him in bed,”

       The helpless soldier now lying in bed.

      How six long weeks in hospital he lay,

       And prayed for his wife and children each day,

       “How to support them, Lord, give me some plan,

       Tho broken in pieces I still am a man,”

       The poor broken soldier still is a man.

      Paid off and discharged when able to go,

       With heart as light and pure as the snow,

       He steps on the cars and away is whirled,

       To realms of love in his own little world,

       The loving old soldier coming along.

      He has plenty to eat and plenty to wear,

       And draws a pension that frees him from care,

       His wife’s contented, his children as neat,

       As any children you see on the street,

       He’s a happy soldier coming along.

      “Boys, don’t run away when your country’s in need,

       But prove your courage by brave act and deed,

       And if you should fall, for you is the fame,

       On tablets of honor, you’ve written your name,”

       Said the brave old soldier coming along.

WASHINGTON.

       Table of Contents