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?