“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;