Wid deir younger tender daughters
Grow’n’ togeder, lush an’ t’ick,
Round’ de mudder tall an’ slimber
Wid her scalloped leaves o’ blue,
In de evenin’ light a-limber,
Or a-tossin’ to an’ fro.
Back to barracks slowly strollin’,[1]
Leavin’ de enticin’ soun’
O’ de Cobre proudly rollin’
T’rough de old deserted town;
Pas’ de level well-kept meadows
O’ de spacious prison-land,
Where de twilight’s fallin’ shadows
Scattered at de moon’s command.
So we passed ’long, half unwillin’,
T’rough de yawnin’ barrack-gate,
Our poo’ hearts wid disdain fillin’
O’ de life we’d larnt to hate;
Visions of a turgid ocean
Of our comrades’ noise an’ woes,
An’ a ne’er-ceasin’ commotion
Sorrowfully ’fo’ us rose.
We mixed in de tumult, waitin’
Fe de moment o’ release,
De disorder never ’batin’,
Never ’batin’ in de leas’
Wid de anger in us growin’,
- ↑ we slowly strolled.
