"God'll take o' you, Bill, God'll take care o'

you."

He's never known us since that day, nor his

sweetheart, an' never will;

Father an' mother an' sweetheart are all the same

to Bill.

An' he groans like a wounded soldier, sometimes

the whole night through,

An' we smooth his head, an' say: "Yes, Bill,

He 'll surely take care o' you."