Now let the procession move solemn and slow,
While the soft mournful music accords with our wo,
While Friendship's warm tears o'er his ashes are shed,
And soul-melting Memory weeps for the dead.
Kind, good-hearted fellow as ever was known!
So kind and so good every heart was his own;
Now, alas! low in death are his virtues all o'er;
How painful the thought, we will see him no more!
2. In camp or in quarters he still was the same,
Bach countenance brighten'd wherever he came;
When the wars of his country compell'd him to roam,
He cheerful would say, all the world was his home.
And when the fierce conflict of armies began,
He fought like a lion, yet felt as a man;
For when British bravery had vanquish'd the foe.
He'd weep o'er the dead by his valour laid low.
3. Ye time-fretted mansions! ye mouldering piles!
Loud echo his praise through your long vaulted aisles;
If haply his shade nightly glide through your gloom,
O tell him our hearts lie with him in the tomb!
And say, though he's gone, long his worth shall remain,
Remember'd, belov'd, by the whole of the men:
Whoe'er acts like him, with a warm feeling heart,
Friendship's tears drop applause at the close of his part.
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