Clarie looks with faith above,
Pray’r and meekness guide his ways
In the corps of the National Greys.
Noble Clarie, Christian Clarie!
Drummer of the National Greys.
Hark! that musket’s direful sound!
See the fatal ball rebound!
Suddenly a piercing cry
Rends the air and cleaves the sky;
’Tis from Clarie, Martyr Clarie!