The Captain's Feather

The dew is on the heather, The moon is in the sky, And the captain’s waving feather Proclaims the hour is nigh When some upon their horses Shall through the battle ride, And some with bleeding corses Must on the heather bide. The dust is on the heather, The moon is in the sky, And about the captain’s feather The bolts of battle fly; But hark, what sudden wonder Breaks forth upon the gloom? It is the cannon’s thunder— It is the voice of doom! The blood is on the heather, The night is in the sky, And the gallant captain’s feather Shall wave no more on high; The grave and holy brother To God is saying Mass, But who shall tell his mother, And who shall tell his lass?

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