Did you see our noble soldier?
Did you bid him a goodbye?
Sad oh sad to the beholder
For he did go forth to die.

Not by whistling Rebel bullets
Nor by screaming shot or shell
It was by the feeble hand of sickness
That our noble soldier fell.

And we never again shall greet him
For with earth he has got through.
No we never more shall see him
For he has passed from mortal view.

In his company they shall miss him
There will be one vacant place
In the ranks he filled while with them
But they will never see his face.

He has gone on a long furlough
Ever on the other shore
Gone to see his much loved comrades
Who have sunk to rest before.

And where peace and love abideth
Where rebellion can not come
There in peace our soldier resteth
In his bright and happy home.

Composed by
G. W. T. on the death of Henry Brown