Annie Dear, Good Bye!Copied by permission ofWm.Hall & Son, 543 Broadway,N. Y., owners of the copyright.I’m leaning o’er the gate, Annie,’Neath the cottage wall;The grey dawn breaks, the hour grows late,I hear the trumpet’s call.I could not brook thy cheek so pale,The sad tear in thine eye,—This heart which laughs at war might quail,So Annie dear, good-by!This heart which laughs at war might quail,So Annie dear, good-by!I’m marching with the brave, Annie!Far from home and thee,To win renown, perhaps a grave,A glorious one ’twill be!But what so e’er the fate I meet,To conquer, or to die!This heart’s last throb fortheewill beat;So Annie dear, good-by!This heart’s last throb fortheewill beat;So Anniedear, good-by!
Copied by permission ofWm.Hall & Son, 543 Broadway,N. Y., owners of the copyright.
I’m leaning o’er the gate, Annie,’Neath the cottage wall;The grey dawn breaks, the hour grows late,I hear the trumpet’s call.I could not brook thy cheek so pale,The sad tear in thine eye,—This heart which laughs at war might quail,So Annie dear, good-by!This heart which laughs at war might quail,So Annie dear, good-by!I’m marching with the brave, Annie!Far from home and thee,To win renown, perhaps a grave,A glorious one ’twill be!But what so e’er the fate I meet,To conquer, or to die!This heart’s last throb fortheewill beat;So Annie dear, good-by!This heart’s last throb fortheewill beat;So Anniedear, good-by!
I’m leaning o’er the gate, Annie,’Neath the cottage wall;The grey dawn breaks, the hour grows late,I hear the trumpet’s call.I could not brook thy cheek so pale,The sad tear in thine eye,—This heart which laughs at war might quail,So Annie dear, good-by!This heart which laughs at war might quail,So Annie dear, good-by!I’m marching with the brave, Annie!Far from home and thee,To win renown, perhaps a grave,A glorious one ’twill be!But what so e’er the fate I meet,To conquer, or to die!This heart’s last throb fortheewill beat;So Annie dear, good-by!This heart’s last throb fortheewill beat;So Anniedear, good-by!
I’m leaning o’er the gate, Annie,’Neath the cottage wall;The grey dawn breaks, the hour grows late,I hear the trumpet’s call.I could not brook thy cheek so pale,The sad tear in thine eye,—This heart which laughs at war might quail,So Annie dear, good-by!This heart which laughs at war might quail,So Annie dear, good-by!
I’m leaning o’er the gate, Annie,
’Neath the cottage wall;
The grey dawn breaks, the hour grows late,
I hear the trumpet’s call.
I could not brook thy cheek so pale,
The sad tear in thine eye,—
This heart which laughs at war might quail,
So Annie dear, good-by!
This heart which laughs at war might quail,
So Annie dear, good-by!
I’m marching with the brave, Annie!Far from home and thee,To win renown, perhaps a grave,A glorious one ’twill be!But what so e’er the fate I meet,To conquer, or to die!This heart’s last throb fortheewill beat;So Annie dear, good-by!This heart’s last throb fortheewill beat;So Anniedear, good-by!
I’m marching with the brave, Annie!
Far from home and thee,
To win renown, perhaps a grave,
A glorious one ’twill be!
But what so e’er the fate I meet,
To conquer, or to die!
This heart’s last throb fortheewill beat;
So Annie dear, good-by!
This heart’s last throb fortheewill beat;
So Anniedear, good-by!