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Harry Bluff.

WHEN a boy, Harry Bluff left his friends and his home,
And his dear native land, o'er the ocean to roam


Like a sapling he sprung, he was fair to the view,
He was true Yankee oak, boys, the older he grew.
Tho' his body was weak, and his hands they were soft,
When the signal was given, he the first went aloft;
The veterans all cry'd, he'll one day lead the van,
For tho' rated a boy, he'd the soul of a man,
And the heart of a trueYankee sailor.

When to manhood promoted, and burning for fame,
Still in peace or in war, Harry Bluff was the same,
So true to his love, and in battle so brave,
The myrtle and laurel entwin'd o'er his grave.
For his country he fell, when by victory crown'd,
The flag, shot away, fell in tatters around,


The foe thought he'd struck, but he sung out avast!
And Columbia's colours he nail'd to the mast,
And he died like a true Yankee sailor.