Part 4

And as we pass the lone grave yards, Where all in time must go, We often think of lonely graves Made some thirty years ago.

Think of the breast works we have charged, Where the dead so thickly lay, And how we tumbled them into the trench, The blue as well as the gray.

We seem to hear the long roll beat, That warns us of the foe, Then hear them sound their own retreat, And it’s all peace here below.

And when we’ve heard the last roll call, Seen our last of earthly scenes, With our old blue coat for a pall We’ll lay down to pleasant dreams.

And with our flag still waving o’er us, That blessed emblem of the free, We’ll join in that immortal chorus And help sound the jubilee.

_Composed by A. W. Harlan, of Co. F, 21st Mo. Croton, Iowa, Sept. 24th, 1892._

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:

Obvious typographical erros have been corrected.

Text in italics is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Archaic or alternate spelling which may have been in use at the time of publication has been retained from the original.

Inconsistencies in the spelling of names have been retained from the original, e.g. Whittemore vs. Whitmore, Ainslee vs. Ainslie, etc.