Not All The Labour Of The Earth

Over All Our Happy Country - Over All Our Nation Spread, Is A Band Of Noble Heroes - Is Our Army Of The Dead.

Not All The Labour Of The Earth Is Done By Hardened Hands.

So I Have Talked With Betsey And Betsey Has Talked With Me, And We Have Agreed Together That We Can't Never Agree

Thanksgiving-day, I Fear, If One The Solemn Truth Must Touch, Is Celebrated, Not So Much To Thank The Lord For Blessing O'er, As For The Sake Of Getting More!

Cover Them Over With Beautiful Flowers, Deck Them With Garlands, Those Brothers Of Ours, Lying So Silent By Night And By Day Sleeping The Years Of Their Manhood Away. Give Them The Meed They Have Won In The Past; Give Them The Honors Their Future Forcast; Give Them The Chaplets They Won In The Strife; Give Them The Laurels They Lost With Their Life.