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BRAVE BOYS ARE THEY!
Heavily falls the rain,
Wild are the breezes'to-night; But 'neath the roof, the hours as they fly,
Are happy and calm, and bright. Gathering round our fire side,
Tho' it be summer time, We sit and talk of brothers abroad,
Forgetting the midnight chime.
Brave boys are they!
Gone at their country's call; And yet, and yet, we cannot forget,
That many brave boys must fall.
Under the homestead roof,
Nestled so cosy and warm, While soldiers sleep, with little or naught,
To shelter them from the storm, kesting on grassy couches,
Pillow 'd on hillocks damp; Of martial fare, how little we know,
Till brothers are in the camp. óBrave boys,, etc.
May the bright wings of love,
ouard them wherever they roam; The time has come when brothers must fight,
And sisters must pray at home. Oh! dread field of battle!
Soon to be strewn with graves! If brothers fall, then bury them where
Our banner in triumph waves. óBrave boys, etc.