Show T A TALE OF TERROR The soldier bold on his pillow rolled Like a log in a billowy sea And a closereefed he t beat a slow retreat re-treat if To his neck but naught cared he Tho night was hot but he knew It not Nor the sob of the dying wind That clutched his hair as he sweltered thereWith there-With a nightmare on his mind Far far away by a tropic bay Bivouacked in a rank morass He lay in his dreams by a brackish stream Full of rellow fever and giess And a flood of rain soaked body and brain fli Till wet to the veTy core He framed a curse that I wont rehearse re-hearse rse S Though it died in a mighty snore Then out of the gloom of the jungle or room A traitorous Spaniard stole And with a blade that a Turk had made Struck the sleeker to the soul At the deadly stroke the sleeper I woke yW eg fet With a shriek P wild despair And clasped his side but the dream had lied A mOSQuito feasted there Chicago Record 5 + |