MARCH.

Man goeth to his long home.

WORDS TO STRANGE MUSIC.

1.

March—march—march!

Making sounds as they tread,

Ho-ho! how they step,

Going down to the dead!

Every stride, every tramp,

Every footfall is nearer;

And dimmer each lamp,

As darkness grows drearer:

But ho! how they march,

Making sounds as they tread;

Ho-ho! how they step,

Going down to the dead!

2.

March—march—march!

Making sounds as they tread,

Ho-ho, how they laugh,

Going down to the dead!

How they whirl—how they trip,

How they smile, how they dally,

How blithesome they skip,

Going down to the valley;

Oh ho, how they march,

Making sounds as they tread;

Ho-ho, how they skip,

Going down to the dead!

3.

March—march—march!

Earth groans as they tread!

Each carries a skull;

Going down to the dead!

Every stride—every stamp,

Every footfall is bolder;

’Tis a skeleton’s tramp,

With a skull on his shoulder;

But ho, how he steps

With a high tossing head,

That clay-covered bone,

Going down to the dead!