HER SONS
Duty-bound to Elizabeth
As Briton sons set homestead by,
Honor delivered unto death,
Yea them, beneath an azure sky.
Rolled the drums low to young widow's cry,
More proper graves than pauper-poor.
Row-upon-row hallowed lie.
Their Battle-Royal is no more.
"Send Us Benjamin, John and Seth,"
"Aye," Briton grand ones did reply,
Who gave they also their last breath
And sons beside with knot in tie.
Aye, gone a ship ne'er asking why,
Cut down in muck o' foreign shore,
Where sand decayed grand food for fly.
Their Battle-Royal is no more.
All joined in One from Nazareth
And sing they still ere time goes by:
"God save our Queen Elizabeth!
And pray we sons Her flags still fly."
As then Her sons the more drew nigh,
Elizabeth cried, "End this war!"
Row upon row another ply,
Their Battle-Royal is no more.
So, death lent Her sons an ally,
A mortal end to end all war.
Wait they now the sweet by and by,
Where Battle-Royal is no more.