(Trad.)      He was just a blue eyed Boston boy   His voice was low with pain   I'll do your bidding comrade mine   If I ride back again   But if you ride on and I should fall   You'll do as much for me   Mother at home is awaiting the news   So write her tenderly      She is waiting at home like a patient saint   Her fond face pale with woe   Her heart will be broken when I am dead   I'll see her face no more   Just then the order came to charge   For a moment hand touched hand   The answered "aye" and away they rode   That brave and devoted band      Straight way was the course to the top of the hill   The rebels they shot with shot and shell   Ploughed furrows of death through the toiling ranks   And guarded them as the fell   There soon came a horrible dying sound   From the heights they could not gain   And those that doom and death had spared   Rose slowly back again      But among the dead at the top of the hill   Was the boy with the golden hair   And the tall dark man that rode by his side   Lay still beside him there   There was no one to write to his blue eyed girl   The words that her lover had said   And mother at home is awaiting her son   She'll only find he's dead   While mother at home is awaiting her son