They come, they come,
The town with fear is dumb!
Their guns have fired from Federal Hill,
It seems we hear their voices still
Demanding gold in tones more bold
Than all the warnings ever told
Since Chambersburg these hundred years
Has triumphed over frontier fears.
They come, they come,
With ruin planned for some
Whose homes, the seat of hearts' desire,
They pitilessly loot and fire
Till only desolate ashes mark
The sight of hearths forever dark,
And only memories live unmarred
To haunt the walls the flames have charred.
They're here, they're here,
They're snatching all that's dear!
The glare of flames, the noonday night
Of smokes that choke our shrieks of fright;
The screams of birds, the horses' neighs,
The pets that mourn in countless ways;
The splash of silver thrown in wells—
All this of hideous plunder tells.
They've gone, they've gone,
Their ranks are speeding on;
Their vandal work accomplished now,
They southward flee and care not how
Our sick, unhoused, have joined our dead,
And well men vainly seek a bed
Whereon to lay the frenzied head
Of some dear one, by fever fed.
They've gone, they've gone,
Their years are speeding on.
Yet, should they come again to-day
We'd greet them in a fervent way:
The Chambersburg they left in tears
Is born anew these fifty years,
And crowned with triumphs toil has won,
Stands royal host, with silenced gun.
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