And wavin’ back a fond farewell to mother and to me!
I vow my old knees trimbled so, when they had all got by,
I had to jist set down upon the curbstone there and cry.
And now they’re comin’ home again! The record that they won
Was sich as shows we still have men, when men’s work’s to be done!
There wasn’t one of ’em that flinched, each feller stood the test—
Wherever they were sent they sailed right in and done their best!
They didn’t go away to play—they knowed what was in store—
But there’s a grave somewhere to-day, down on the Cuban shore!
I guess that I’ll not go to town to see the boys come in;