An' what with the news o' battles lost, the speeches
an' all the noise,
I guess ev'ry farm in the neighborhood lost a part
of its crop o' boys.
'T was harvest time when Bill left home; ev'ry stalk
in the fields o' rye
Seemed to stan' tiptoe to see him off an' wave him
a fond good-bye;
His sweetheart was here with some other gals—the
sassy little miss!