Colonel W. S. Hawkins
Though we're a band of prisoners,|
Let each be firm and true,
For noble souls and hearts of oak,
The foe can ne'er subdue.
We then will turn us homeward,
To those we love so dear;
For peace and happiness, my boys,
Oh, give a hearty cheer!
For peace and home, hurrah!
Hurrah for the Bonnie White Flag,
That ends this cruel war!
The sword into the scabbard,
3. Our battle banners furled away,|
No more shall greet the eye,
Nor beat of angry drums be heard,
Nor bugle's hostile cry.
The blade no more be raised aloft,
In conflict fierce and wild,
The bomb shall roll across the sward,
The plaything of a child.
4. No pale-faced captive then shall stand,
5. The plow into the furrow then,
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