A Soldier's Dream

Oh, the drums are so mournful

My dear, oh, my love

As my thoughts they are turning your way

Where are the eyes

I beheld with my own

On that long ago lazy day?

Dead are the leaves

On the stark battlefield

The stench of the flesh sickens me

I sleep soaking wet a

And the worms eat my bread

The mourning of men fills the air

Oh, green are the leaves

On the old apple tree

Those sweet perfumed blossoms of spring

Entwined in your hair

A smile in your eyes

A soft blade of grass for a ring

Oh, the drums are so mournful

My dear, oh, my love

As my thoughts they are turning your way

Where are the eyes

I beheld with my own

On that long ago lazy day?

On that long ago lazy day