  Where Buttermilk Channel doth seek to beguile Diffident margins of Governor’s Isle, There is a fortress all bastioned and chill, Known to the army as old “Castle Bill.” There are occasions when soldiers may smile; Not in that castle on Governor’s Isle; Not in the cloisters where sentries abound; Not where a gun butt leaps up from the ground. Oh! There are many—the old cannoneers, Infantry sergeants and grave grenadiers; They have gone onward to zones of desire, Scorning all theories of musketry fire; They have advanced to civilian vales, Building new barracks for sweet nightingales. Yet they revert in their leisure sedate, Seeing in visions that old castle gate; Still they remember their days in the mill— Down in the casemates of old “Castle Bill.” |
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