sometimes, the whole night through,
An' we smooth his head, an' say: 'Yes,
Bill, He'll surely take care o' you.'
'Ye can stop a war in a minute, but when
can ye stop the groans?
Fer ye've broke our hearts an' sapped our
strength an' plucked away our bones.
An' ye've filled our souls with bitterness
that goes from sire to son,
So ye best be kind o' careful down there