When Sumter fell, an' as likely a boy as
ever this world has seen,
An' what with the news o' battle lost, the
speeches, an' all the noise,
I guess ev'ry farm in the neighborhood
lost a part of its crop o' boys.
“'Twas harvest time when Bill left home,
ev'ry stalk in the fields o' rye
Seemed t' stan' tip-toe t' see him off an'
wave a fond good-bye.