This you sing in true love’s word.
I think that in our war’s some year
Your throat was taught these words so dear;
When Grant’s and Lee’s were names of dread,
Where billowed fields with sweetheart dead.
Your “Peter! Peter,” there you learned
As “Gertie! Gertie” to him yearned.
It was a time when sorrow rent
Full many a heart of sweet content.
’Twas beneath sweet Southern pines;