Fiddlers’ Green

Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead Troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers’ Green.

Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen
Accompanied by the Engineers, Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddler’s Green.

Though some go curving down the trail 
To seek a warmer scene.
No Trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he’s emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers’ Green.