"John Maynard!" with an anxious voice The captain cries once more, "Stand by the wheel five minutes yet, And we shall reach the shore." Through flame and smoke that dauntless heart Responded firmly still, Unawed, though face to face with death, "With God's good help I will!"
The flames approach with giant strides, They scorch his hand and brow; One arm, disabled, seeks his side, Ah! he is conquered now. But no, his teeth are firmly set, He crushes down his pain, His knee upon the stanchion pressed, He guides the ship again.
One moment yet! one moment yet! Brave heart, thy task is o'er, The pebbles grate beneath the keel, The steamer touches shore. Three hundred grateful voices rise In praise to God that He Hath saved them from the fearful fire, And from the engulfing sea.
But where is he, that helmsman bold? The captain saw him reel, His nerveless hands released their task, He sank beside the wheel. The wave received his lifeless corse, Blackened with smoke and fire. God rest him! Never hero had A nobler funeral pyre!
Piller fights is fun, I tell you; There isn't anything I'd rather do Than get a big piller and hold it tight, Stand up in bed and then just fight.
Us boys allers have our piller fights And the best night of all is Pa's lodge night. Soon as ever he goes, we say "Good night," Then go right upstairs for a piller fight.
Sometimes maybe Ma comes to the stairs And hollers up, "Boys, have you said your prayers?" And then George will holler "Yes, Mamma," for he always has; Good deal of preacher about George, Pa says.
Ma says "Pleasant dreams," and shuts the door; If she's a-listenin' both of us snore, But as soon as ever she goes we light a light And pitch right into our piller fight.
We play that the bed is Bunker Hill And George is Americans, so he stands still. But I am the British, so I must hit As hard as ever I can to make him git. We played Buena Vista one night-- Tell you, that was an awful hard fight!
Held up our pillers like they was a flag, An' hollered, "Little more grape-juice, Captain Bragg!" That was the night that George hit the nail-- You just ought to have seen those feathers sail!
I was covered as white as flour, Me and him picked them up for 'most an hour; Next day when our ma saw that there mess She was pretty mad, you better guess;