| |
| UNDER the walls of Monterey | |
| At daybreak the bugles began to play, | |
| Victor Galbraith! | |
| In the mist of the morning damp and gray, | |
| These were the words they seemed to say: | 5 |
| “Come forth to thy death, | |
| Victor Galbraith!” | |
| |
| Forth he came, with a martial tread; | |
| Firm was his step, erect his head; | |
| Victor Galbraith, | 10 |
| He who so well the bugle played, | |
| Could not mistake the words it said: | |
| “Come forth to thy death, | |
| Victor Galbraith!” | |
| |
| He looked at the earth, he looked at the sky, | 15 |
| He looked at the files of musketry, | |
| Victor Galbraith! | |
| And he said, with a steady voice and eye, | |
| “Take good aim; I am ready to die!” | |
| Thus challenges death | 20 |
| Victor Galbraith. | |
| |
| Twelve fiery tongues flashed straight and red, | |
| Six leaden balls on their errand sped; | |
| Victor Galbraith | |
| Falls to the ground, but he is not dead; | 25 |
| His name was not stamped on those balls of lead, | |
| And they only scathe | |
| Victor Galbraith. | |
| |
| Three balls are in his breast and brain, | |
| But he rises out of the dust again, | 30 |
| Victor Galbraith! | |
| The water he drinks has a bloody stain; | |
| “Oh, kill me, and put me out of my pain!” | |
| In his agony prayeth | |
| Victor Galbraith. | 35 |
| |
| Forth dart once more those tongues of flame, | |
| And the bugler has died a death of shame, | |
| Victor Galbraith! | |
| His soul has gone back to whence it came, | |
| And no one answers to the name, | 40 |
| When the Sergeant saith, | |
| “Victor Galbraith!” | |
| |
| Under the walls of Monterey | |
| By night a bugle is heard to play, | |
| Victor Galbraith! | 45 |
| Through the mist of the valley damp and gray | |
| The sentinels hear the sound, and say, | |
| “That is the wraith | |
| Of Victor Galbraith!” | |
| |
