The rural pipe and merry lay No more shall cheer the happy day No social scenes of gay delight Beguile the dreary winter night No strains but those of sorrow flow And nought be heard but sounds of woe While the pale phantoms of the slain Glide nightly o'er the silent plain O baneful cause, o fatal morn Accursed to ages yet unborn! The sons against their father stood The parent shed his children's blood Yet, when the rage of battle ceased The victor's soul was not appeased The naked and forlorn must feel Devouring flames and murdering steel! The rural pipe and merry lay No more shall cheer the happy day No social scenes of gay delight Beguile the dreary winter night No strains but those of sorrow flow And nought be heard but sounds of woe While the pale phantoms of the slain Glide nightly o'er the silent plain