We called him “The Justice,” but now he’s “The Squire.”
And there’s a nice youngster of excellent pith,—
Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith;
But he shouted a song for the brave and the free,—
Just read on his medal, “My country,” “of thee!”
You hear that boy laughing?—You think he’s all fun;
But the angels laugh too, at the good he has done;
The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,
And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all!
Yes, we’re boys, always playing with tongue or with pen;