Go look for their deeds on the 'scutcheon of fame;
Go read in the sunlight each glorious name;
Old Round Top is crowned with their glory today,
And Shiloh's invested with splendor for aye;
Where bravely they struggled and died for the free,
Chickamauga flows on with a song to the sea;
And other proud fields have extended a crown
To the boys of Jerome - our sons of renown.

They came from the battle all shattered and torn,
Not as they went forth in the flush of the morn;
Their standards were riddled with shot and with shell,
But their war-drums had sounded rebellion's death-knell.
Their ranks were depleted, their comrades afar
Slept peacefully under the Southern star;
But proudly erected marched the immortal few -
Our heroes, each man in his garments of blue.

Who hailed them?  A nation they'd saved by their might,
And planted fore'er on the ramparts of Right.
The welcome was great that came after the strife -
Their kiss of the mother, the sweetheart, the wife;
The drum became silent, the bugle was still,
They echoed no more on the red battle hill;
And the Angel of Peace, with her pinions outspread,
Looked down on the living and wept for the dead.

The land that we love honors still every son
Who rushed to its aid at the flash of the gun;
On many a field seeks the column the sky,
Enriched with a record that never can die;
So long as our banner invincible waves,
Memorials will rise to the worth of our braves;
And ever the country to which we are true
Will laurel the brow of our soldiers in blue.