Hough!

Pressing here my mossy pillow,
Forms that moulder ‘neath the willow,
Forms that sleep beneath the billow,
Flit and frolic round me now;

Banishing all thought of mourning,
All my dreams with joy adorning,
May they tarry till the morning
Ere they breathe their “Hough!”

“Hough!” boys, “Hough!”–“Hough!” boys, “Hough!”
Let the soldier’s toast be ever “Hough!”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s