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This “drummer-boy” from Tennessee,
Who beat with him the reveille.
But came the battle-shock, and doom
Of one great “Lyon” heart,
The victor's shout — the victim's groan,
Fulfilled their fearful part!
And, on that blood-stained field of woe
The darkness threw its pall!
The morning dawned on flying foe;
When, list!--the “morning call!”
Our “drummer-boy” from Tennessee,
Beating for help the reveille!
Upon the valley sod he lay
Beside a lifeless foe,
Whose dying hand had sought to stay
The life-blood's ebbing flow:
The quivering drum yet echoing
The beating of his heart--
The encamping angel beckoning
From drum and fife to part!
And Eddie Lee, of Tennessee,
Awaits the final reveille!
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