But fondly will cherish tho’ the uppers wear out,
And the soles are all ready to sail up the spout,
For there’s no shoes in the world possess so much ease
For my poor tired feet as my old Reveilles.
The worldly may scoff and at sight of them sneer,
But I’ll cling to them yet for old memories dear;
They covered my feet when a Plebe in distress,
And into my Yearling year helped me to press;
As long as winds whistle and waves roll o’er the seas
Will I look with kind glance on my old Reveilles.