The rural pipe and merry lay
No more shall cheer the happy day
No social scenes of gay delight
Beguile the dreary winter night
No strains but those of sorrow flow
And nought be heard but sounds of woe
While the pale phantoms of the slain
Glide nightly o'er the silent plain

O baneful cause, o fatal morn
Accursed to ages yet unborn!
The sons against their father stood
The parent shed his children's blood
Yet, when the rage of battle ceased
The victor's soul was not appeased
The naked and forlorn must feel
Devouring flames and murdering steel!

The rural pipe and merry lay
No more shall cheer the happy day
No social scenes of gay delight
Beguile the dreary winter night
No strains but those of sorrow flow
And nought be heard but sounds of woe
While the pale phantoms of the slain
Glide nightly o'er the silent plain