(Trad.)
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He was just a blue eyed Boston boy
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His voice was low with pain
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I'll do your bidding comrade mine
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If I ride back again
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But if you ride on and I should fall
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You'll do as much for me
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Mother at home is awaiting the news
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So write her tenderly
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She is waiting at home like a patient saint
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Her fond face pale with woe
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Her heart will be broken when I am dead
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I'll see her face no more
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Just then the order came to charge
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For a moment hand touched hand
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The answered "aye" and away they rode
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That brave and devoted band
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Straight way was the course to the top of the hill
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The rebels they shot with shot and shell
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Ploughed furrows of death through the toiling ranks
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And guarded them as the fell
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There soon came a horrible dying sound
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From the heights they could not gain
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And those that doom and death had spared
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Rose slowly back again
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But among the dead at the top of the hill
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Was the boy with the golden hair
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And the tall dark man that rode by his side
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Lay still beside him there
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There was no one to write to his blue eyed girl
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The words that her lover had said
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And mother at home is awaiting her son
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She'll only find he's dead
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While mother at home is awaiting her son
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Blue Eyed Boston Boy
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| Mark Erelli |
