My father, he was not a king, A soldier brave was he. He fell responding to the call That made his Country free. Yes! let me like a Soldier fall, Upon some open plain. This breast expanding for the ball, To blot out ev’ry stain. [Illustration] No prouder title I would claim, No prouder boast! ’tis well, The blood that courses thro’ my veins No brighter birth may tell, The blood that courses thro’ my veins No brighter birth may tell. No brighter birth may tell. Brave manly hearts confer my doom That gentler ones may tell, Howe’er forgot, unknown my tomb, I like a Soldier fell. Howe’er forgot, unknown my tomb, I like a Sol-dier fell, I like a Sol-dier fell! 1 My mother she was not a queen! Nor titles graced her brow; But hers a free and noble heart, In heaven rests ere now. And I in Freedom’s mould am cast, No prouder boast! ’tis well, The blood that courses thro’ my veins No brighter birth may tell. 2 I only ask of that proud race Which ends its blaze in me, To die the last and not disgrace Its ancient chivalry. Tho’ o’er my clay no banner wave, Nor trumpet requiem swell, Enough, they murmur o’er my grave, He like a Soldier fell. 3 There is a land where Freedom dwells A land where all are blest, A land that holds the glorious tombs Of heroes now at rest; That land I love, it is my home, Of it I boast, ’tis well! The blood that courses thro’ my veins No brighter birth may tell. * * * * * Transcriber’s Notes: Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained as well as some spellings peculiar to Graham’s. Punctuation has been corrected without note. Other errors have been corrected as noted below. For illustrations, some caption text may be missing or incomplete due to condition of the originals used for preparation of the eBook.