Fife and drum sweep o’er the hills
Thunderous cracks from without the pills.
Troops arrayed in battle’s might
Take back the creek throughin the night.
Great smoke lays o’er the valleys shed
With the blood of the revolution bled.
Great thunderous crowds from the east
Lay their bulwarks about the creek.
Britain comes in strong man o’ wars
With troops and muskets from another shore.
The battle arrayed to free our guns
The righteous lot of those revolution’s sons;
With ten thousand marching to Washington’s songs
The Prussian General making us strong.
Forget not the revolution’s proud mysterious fire
Which laid the bodies of man and sire.
Repeaters on the chiefest hills
Longstreet’s guns were good to kill.
Picket’s charge, o’ laid to waste
The Rebel South and their great haste.
Across the valley they ran and charged
Believing the guns were waxen charge;
Yet they were instead a cartridge load
Which fired seven shots for each rebel’s load.
Down the grey coats fell in blood
For Picket’s mismatch with the Yankees’ Guns.
Slavery was ended on that good day
And on the fourth Lincoln had his say.
Just like on the fourth our nation sealed
To free mankind, and slavery killed.
Right had won both illustrious wars
Good men died, and their blood had poured.
For righteous were the chiefest sons
Who fought off the British and Rebel Guns.
B. K. Neifert 