Dear Madam I am a soldier and my speech
is rough but plain
I am not so good at writing and I hate
to cause you pain
I promised him that I would write and
I think I will do so
Since it comes from one who loved him
perhaps it will ease the blow
In writing this you'll never know the grief
I strove to hide
But if you'll pardon a soldier's words
I'll tell you how he died
I have been three years soldiering and
he seemed to take to me
More than any of the other lads he enjoyed
my company
The night before the battle while in our
crowded tent
Where many a brave lad was sobbing and
many a knee was bent
All thinking of tomorrow when the bloody
work was done
How many would assemble for to see the
setting sun
And so we left that crowded tent your soldier
boy and I
We stood there quietly talking beneath
a pale moon sky
He spoke of home he loved so well and
friends he loved so dear
Since I had none to speak about sure I
always liked to hear
He told me of the morning when first he
went away
How sadly you did mourn for him but never
bid him stay
He named his sisters one by one and then
a deep blush came
He spoke about another girl but he did
not say her name
And then he said dear comrade if it is
my luck to fall
Will you write home and tell them that
I thought and spoke of all
I promised but I did not think that his
time would come so soon
The battle was three days ago sure he
died today at noon
The morning of the battle fast fell the
shot and shell
I was standing close beside him and I
saw him when he fell
I gently raised him in my arms and placed
him on the grass
This was against the orders but I guess
they let it pass
It was a small but a piercing ball that
hit him in the side
I never thought it fatal till the night
before he died
And when he'd see he'd have to go sure
he called me to his bed
Saying don't forget dear comrade for to
write when I am dead
Here underneath my pillow is a lock of
golden hair
The name is among the papers send this
in my mother's care
Last night I wanted so to live when I
felt so young to go
Last week I passed my birthday I was eighteen
years you know
We wrapped him in his country's flag and
we bore him out that night
We buried him under a shady tree where
the moon was shining bright
I carved him out a headstone as skillfull
as I could
And if you want to see the place I can
show you where he stood
I'm sending you his hymnbook and the cap
he used to wear
A lock I got the night before from his
dark curly hair
I'm sending you his bible the night before
he died
We turned the pages one by one as I sat
there by his side
I'm keeping the belt he used to wear for
he told me so to do
There is a hole in the left side where
the bullet it went through
I think I've done his bidding now there's
nothing more to do
But while Ilive I'll always mourn for
the Boy who wore the Blue