Never A Tear Bedims The Eye That

Each Lost Day Has Its Patron Saint!

Hark! I Hear The Tramp Of Thousands, And Of Armèd Men The Hum; Lo, A Nation's Hosts Have Gathered Round The Quick Alarming Drum Saying, Come, Freemen, Come! Ere Your Heritage Be Wasted, Said The Quick Alarming Drum.

Which I Wish To Remark-- And My Language Is Plain,-- That For Ways That Are Dark And For Tricks That Are Vain, The Heathen Chinee Is Peculiar.

And Then, For An Old Man Like Me, It's Not Exactly Right,this Kind O' Playing Soldier With No Enemy In Sight.

For The Glory Born Of Goodness Never Dies, And Its Flag Is Not Half-masted In The Skies.