| "RIFLEMAN, shoot me a fancy shot | |
| Straight at the heart of yon prowling vidette; | |
| Ring me a ball in the glittering spot | |
| That shines on his breast like an amulet!" | |
| |
| "Ah, Captain! here goes for a fine-drawn bead; | 5 |
| There 's music around when my barrel 's in tune!" | |
| Crack! went the rifle, the messenger sped, | |
| And dead from his horse fell the ringing dragoon. | |
| |
| "Now, Rifleman, steal through the bushes and snatch | |
| From your victim some trinket to hansel first blood— | 10 |
| A button, a loop, or that luminous patch | |
| That gleams in the moon like a diamond stud." | |
| |
| "Oh, Captain! I staggered, and sunk on my track, | |
| When I gazed on the face of that fallen vidette; | |
| For he looked so like you as he lay on his back | 15 |
| That my heart rose upon me, and masters me yet. | |
| |
| "But I snatched off the trinket—this locket of gold; | |
| An inch from the centre my lead broke its way, | |
| Scarce grazing the picture, so fair to behold, | |
| Of a beautiful lady in bridal array." | 20 |
| |
| "Ha! Rifleman, fling me the locket—'t is she, | |
| My brother's young bride, and the fallen dragoon | |
| Was her husband—Hush! soldier, 't was Heaven's decree; | |
| We must bury him here, by the light of the moon! | |
| |
| "But, hark! the far bugles their warnings unite; | 25 |
| War is a virtue—weakness a sin; | |
| There 's lurking and loping around us to-night; | |
| Load again, Rifleman, keep your hand in!" | |
