Written by James R. Thomas, Give What You Please For This


Give What You Please For This.

'Tis midnight now in Tenessee,
There is no sound but the forest tree:
The cold October wind blows wild,
And I'm sad when 1 think of the Soldier's child.

The Soldier lies in his tent and dreams,
Of his home in the north, and the bright running stream.
Of the wife of his youth and the old cottage home.
Where when but a boy, he delighted to roam.

He dreams of his parents that's beneath the cold sod;
Their resting their bodies, their souls are with God;
He dreams of his daughter, so beautiful and mild,
That is with her mother, a poor Soldier's child.

The bugle is sounded, the war path must be trod:
He thinks of his friends and leaves them with God:
He rushes to battle with the thousands so true,
To die ’neath the folds of the red, white and blue.

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