- Halfway
down the trail to Hell,
- In a
shady meadow green
- Are the
Souls of all dead troopers camped,
- Near a
good old-time canteen.
- And
this eternal resting place
- Is
known as Fiddlers' Green.
-
- Marching
past, straight through to Hell
- The
Infantry are seen.
- Accompanied
by the Engineers,
- Artillery
and Marines,
- For
none but the shades of Cavalrymen
- Dismount
at Fiddlers' Green.
-
- Though
some go curving down the trail
- To
seek a warmer scene.
- No
trooper ever gets to Hell
- Ere
he's emptied his canteen.
- And
so rides back to drink again
- With
friends at Fiddlers' Green.
-
- And
so when man and horse go down
- Beneath
a saber keen,
- Or in
a roaring charge of fierce melee
- You
stop a bullet clean,
- And
the hostiles come to get your scalp,
- Just
empty your canteen,
- And
put your pistol to your head
- And
go to Fiddlers' Green.
-
Origin
and Author Unknown - Believed to originate in the 1800's
- First known published form in a 1923 Cavalry Journal
