Bacchanalian Songs, SONG

Here, full of scars, lies brave Hal Brazen, For whom the corps has griev'd; He'll ne'er stand centry for this reason, By death he's now reliev'd: Five feet six inches he was counted, And brave with all 'tis said: The guard by him's no longer mounted, He rests in honor's bed.

Hal never from his corps deserted, He'd face a ball or sword: His regiment he oft' diverted, And Moll his wife ador'd: How oft' did he against the foe march, Pursuing all that Bed: Farewell his quick step and his slow march, He halts in honor's bed.

Yet Hal above shall be promoted, When his commander great, T'advance the brave, the good, and noted, Will give his orders scrait: To handle arms when word is given, And trumpets call the dead, Hal, to be billeted in heav'n, Shall wake from honor's bed.