All day long the sun had wandered as, They marched on that Indian summer day.
Through the slowly creeping hours, only to be thrown into the fray
"The hearts of the mountains in the near distance, Shuddered with a fearful wonder,
As the echoes burst upon them Of the cannons' awful thunder.
Even after sun slipped beyond the western hills The mad work was still not done.
For one lone Division the Battle had just begun
With torches dancing like fire flies in the night they moved forward into the fight
Besides from the flashes at the works it was their only source of light.
Onward they rush forgoing the usual Rebel yell, Stumbling over the wounded and dead that had previously fell.
Thickly on the trampled grasses lay the battle's awful traces, 'Mid the blood-stained ground lay their stark and ghastly faces,
The shrieks and cries and groans that were swirling all around, How could one forget such awful sounds?
Onward they rush in to the face of death.
Before it was all over 100 will lay in eternal rest.
Over 55 of them rest at Carnton just down the road
While others our known only to God and are buried there as unknown
Sleep oh Gallant soldiers, Sleeping in eternal rest
From within this descendant of a Comrade
Your Gallant deeds, I shall never Forget.