Then they bore him to the city
Where the air was rife with praise.
Where the air was rife with praise.
There they left him and the people
Laid him in a soldier's grave,
Close beside St. Martin's steeple,
Where his country's banners wave.
Laid him in a soldier's grave,
Close beside St. Martin's steeple,
Where his country's banners wave.
And they'll not forget the story
Until Pity dries her tears,
And the head of Time grows hoary
With the burden of the years.
Until Pity dries her tears,
And the head of Time grows hoary
With the burden of the years.
OUR FLAG
Red for the life blood that freely was given
To shield our bright banner when infamy came;
White for the nation that purged her dark shame,
Blue for her heroes, a symbol of heaven.
To shield our bright banner when infamy came;
White for the nation that purged her dark shame,
Blue for her heroes, a symbol of heaven.
THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL
On June seventeenth, in "seventy-five,"
Old Boston's streets were all alive
With those who, waking, heard the gun
That first was fired at Lexington.
Old Boston's streets were all alive
With those who, waking, heard the gun
That first was fired at Lexington.
91
