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re-enlisted.
He 's never shirked a battle yet, though frightful risks he 's run,
Since treason flooded Baltimore, the spring of Sixty-One;
Through blood and storm he 's held out firm, nor fretted once, my Sam,
At swamps of Chickahominy, or fields of Antietam.

Though many a time, he 's told us, when he saw them lying dead,
The boys that came from Newburyport, and Lynn, and Marblehead,
Stretched out upon the trampled turf, and wept on by the sky,
It seemed to him the Commonwealth had drained her life-blood dry.

"But then," he said, "the more 's the need the country has of me:
To live and fight the war all through, what glory it will be!
The Rebel balls don't hit me; and, mother, if they should,
You 'll know I 've fallen in my place, where I have always stood."