We've assembled in the graveyard, Boys,
          We stand on sacred soil,
       Around our Chieftain's resting place,
          Away from war's turmoil.
       And as we gaze with tearful eyes
          And memories all aglow,
       In retrospection pass the scenes
          Of Twenty Years Ago.
 

       Beneath the silent bluegrass sod
          He rests from war's alarms,
       His lips, now mute, no longer call
          His followers to arms.
       But tho' the changes time has wrought
          Since treachery laid him low,
       Our hearts still beat as warm for him
          As Twenty Years Ago.
 

       Oh, could we but blot out that morn
          And alter fate's decree
       That sped the murderous minnie on
          And set his spirit free.
       He too would greet us here today
          Where gentle zephyrs blow,
       And make the comradeship complete
          Of Twenty Years Ago.
 

       No, -not complete-, that would require
          A host of forms, not here
       Who rode with us on many a raid,
          But sleep we scarce know where;
       Near picket stands some still repose,
          O'er others, roses grow;
       From spirit lands they greet old friends,
          Of Twenty Years Ago.

       The places they fought and fell
          Are numbered by the score,
       From Bacon Creek's baptismal fire
          To the lake's eternal shore.
       Brave Atherton of the "Squadron Old"
          Was the first to be called from below,
       We laid him on Duck River's bank
          O'er Twenty Years Ago.
 

       West, Kennett, Smith, and Manly fell
          On the battles raging billows;
       Wasson, Young, and Cecil pressed
          Prison tortured pillows.
       John Waller, Quirk, and Charlie Byrne
          Fell since our overthrow;
       They've gone to join their comrades,
          Of Twenty Years Ago.
 

       We meet today in peaceful camp
          War's friendship to renew,
       And on the graves of comrades gone
          Bright flowers and tears to strew;
       To dwell on themes that filled our thoughts
          When marching on the foe,
       To grasp the hand that primed the guns
          Just Twenty Years Ago.
 

       Scenes have been altered since we met,
          Our campfires have gone out.
       Our battle fields now wave with grain,
          We no more, raid and scout;
       But in reunion we can meet
          And all restraint overthrow,
       Our cause, and comrades, are as dear
          As Twenty Years Ago.