Maine Volunteers  By Jacob Muir

Maine volunteers charge with bayonets,

Charging, surging forwards with no regrets,

Oh those numerous Texas soldiers,

As they clamber over the boulders,

They’re panicking, as the flood comes near,

They’re panicking.

Three hours before on Little Round Top,

Below the battle just won’t stop,

As the union lines shutter and brace,

A determined enemy they must face.

They maneuvered as to attack the flank,

Faced only with a single isolated Maine rank.

“Hold men hold!”

Again the order was told.

With the first charge they threw the rebels back,

But the enemy reformed for another attack:

A second charge was forced down the hill,

Of carnage and death the men had their fill,

Those still alive had no powder or shot,

Hold the hill longer, they could not.

“Now’s the time! Fix your bayonets men!

With a sharp charge we’ll throw them back again!”

The men of Maine did as they were told,

With a sun as bright as a nugget of gold.

A days as hot as summer days came,

The history of America would never be the same.