So Annie dear, good-by!
This heart which laughs at war might quail,
So Annie dear, good-by!
I’m marching with the brave, Annie!
Far from home and thee,
To win renown, perhaps a grave,
A glorious one ’twill be!
But what so e’er the fate I meet,
To conquer, or to die!
This heart’s last throb for thee will beat;