Bow, sorrowing, the silent pines.
While others fought for cities proud,
For fertile plains and wealth of mines,
I breathed the sulph’rous battle cloud,
I bared my breast, and took my shroud
For the land where wave the grand old pines.
Though comrades sigh and loved ones weep
For the form shot down in the battle lines,
In my grave of blood I gladly sleep,
If the life I gave will help to keep
The Vandal’s foot from the Land of Pines.
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