Through Goshen Hollow, where hemlocks grow,
Where rushing rills, with flash and flow,
Are over the rough rocks falling;
...
O! I am a conscript
O! how I do wish
That I had stayed away up North
And kept out of the 'milish.'
...
Come back to me, mother! why linger away
From thy poor little blind boy, the long weary day!
I mark every footstep, I list to each tone,
...
In Scotland there was a babie born,
Lill lal, etc.
And his name it was called young Hind Horn.
With a fal lal, etc.
...
Alas! the weary hours pass slow,
The night is very dark and still;
And in the marshes far below
...
I wear a splendid uniform;
I ride a splendid nag;
I talk both loud and valiantly
Of Honor and the Flag;
...
The plumed staff officer gallops
Along the swaying line,
That shakes as, beaten by hailstones,
Shakes the loaded autumn vine;
...
I pity the slave mother, careworn and weary,
Who sighs as she presses her babe to her breast;
I lament her sad fate, all so hopeless and dreary,
...
Lully, lulley, lully, lulley,
The faucon hath borne my make away.
He bare him up, he bare him down,
He bare him into an orchard brown.
...