From the camp in the wood where the valley lies lone,
Three times the signalling trumpet has blown.
Loud and ringing its clear notes fall,
Over wood and field they hear the “Recall.”
In troops and by knots, by three and by two,
Back they straggle, the valiant few.
Ah! not all are returning back;
Full many a man doth the regiment lack.
They were there in their places at reveillé,
At night they lie cold, and pallid to see.