20
CHRISTMAS COMES AGAIN
His sword is rusting in its sheath,
His flag furled on the wall;
We 'll twine them with a holly-wreath,
With green leaves cover all.
His flag furled on the wall;
We 'll twine them with a holly-wreath,
With green leaves cover all.
So clink and drink when falls the eve;
But, comrades, hide from me
Their graves—I would not see them heave
Beside me, like the sea.
But, comrades, hide from me
Their graves—I would not see them heave
Beside me, like the sea.
Let not my brothers come again,
As men dead in their prime;
Then hold my hands, forget my pain,
And strike the Christmas chime.
As men dead in their prime;
Then hold my hands, forget my pain,
And strike the Christmas chime.
