That he may fall in brutal hands
And be a slave to their commands;
That he may shudder, starve and thirst
Among the demon Huns accursed.
Oh, joy, if I could only go
And take the pain and bear the blow!
I'd revel in the maddest fray,
If only he, my boy, could stay.
His boyish flesh is all too fair
To meet the brutes and devils there.
His face it is too glad and bright
To front the demons of the night.
His heart it is too kind and warm
To bear the ice and snow and storm.
Would I for him herewith could go
And bear the pain and face the foe,
I'd revel in the maddest fray,
If only he, my boy, could stay.
II
THE SON
The call to duty now has come;
The flags are out, with fife and drum.
The cause for which we fight is just;
In God above is all our trust.
