A Plea For Old Friends

I was fond, indeed, of Paul Revere, In the days of my earlier age, And the picture of him stands out clear From the old school reader page; And I’ve seen the light in the belfry tower, I’ve heard the hoof beats, too, But, alas! alas! in an evil hour, They say it’s all untrue!

And Barbara Frietchie--all these years, From guileless boyhood down, I’ve seen the flag and heard the cheers In far off Fredericktown; And I’ve seen Jackson lift his hat And bid his troops march on, But now, alas! they tell me that Is a dreamer’s tale, and gone!

And oft at night, as though ’t were real, I’ve heard the flame’s wild roar, I’ve seen Jim Bludso hold the wheel Till the last galoot’s ashore; I thought the better of men for it, And of duty to die or do, But some wise men, of little wit, Say none of the tale is true.

Oh, leave me the ride of Paul Revere And the story of Fredericktown! The nozzle agin’ th’ bank--so clear From guileless boyhood down! Leave me the curfew that was not rung, Leave them for me and you; And let more songs like these be sung, Though none of the tales be true!