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280 FILL UP THE RANKS, BOYS.
Our ranks are thinned by shot and shell, But still goes up our battle-cry :
Forward ! and charge upon the foe, For we '11 conquer or we '11 die !
Our country calls for stalwart men
To rally for the coming fray ; Oh ! hear that call, ye loyal ones,
To the field of strife, away, away; Away from your cool and sha$y bowers,
From mother dear, and loved one's side, From friends you love, and social hours,
To fill the place of those who 've died.
It bids you go and stand with those,
Who battle for the cause of Right ; With gleaming bayonets beat back the foe,
Now marshalled for the coming fight; To bid them stay their wicked hands,
Now red with friends' and brothers' gore ; And seek again " their fathers' house,"
In peace to live as in days before.
Oh ! is your country nothing worth That thus you idly stay at home,
In this her hour of greatest need, To see her perish, and alone ?