SENTENCED TO DEATH.
Copyright, 1891, by Frank Harding;.
Words by W. C. Robey. Music by Will H. Fox.
The gray dawn had crept o'er the stillness of morning,
The dewdrops they glistened like icicled breath,
The notes of the bugle had sounded its warning,
A young Irish soldier lay sentenced to death;
No cold-blooded murder had stained his pure conscience;
he called as a witness his Maker on high;
He'd simply been fighting for Ireland's loved freedom,
Arrested And tried, he was sentenced to die.
Lay him away on the hillside, along with the brave and bold;
Inscribe his name on the scroll of fame in letters of purest gold.
"My conscience would never convict me," he said with his dying breath,
May God bless the cause of freedom for which I am sentenced to death.
He thought of the love of his feeble old mother,
he thought of the colleen so dear to his heart;
The sobs of affection he scarcely could smother.
Well knowing how soon from them both he must part.
he feared not to die, though his heart was near broken,
'Tis simply remembrance of those he loved well;
His Bible he pressed to his heart as a token,
Its words cheered his soul in a felon's cold cell.-Chorus.
To the old Barrack Square they marched the young hero,
The bandage he tore from his eyes with disdain,
You think I'm afraid of a crime-soddened "Nero,"
I'd die for my country again and again.
I blame not my comrades for doing their duty;
"Aim straight at my heart" were the last words he said.
Exposing his breast to the point of the rifle,
The smoke cleared away, the young soldier was dead.-Chorus.