With a smile ’neath his golden head and curly, as at play.
So he fought the fiends of hunger and of cold, true as gold;
Like a veteran tried and bold, I am told,
Was this soldier in life’s battle
’Mid the daily hum and rattle;
Driven forth like sheep or cattle, to be sold.
Many brave fall by the way, every day;
Some survive, their country’s stay; well they may;
But of all the rank and file
Grandly marching up the aisle