“Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone,
And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
“But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring
And we heard the distant and random gun
Of the enemy, suddenly firing.
“Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame, fresh and gory;