Classic Poem

Loaded with gallant soldiers,
A boat shot in to the land,
And lay at the right of Rodman's Point,
With her keel upon the sand.

Lightly, gayly, they came to shore,
And never a man afraid;
When sudden the enemy opened fire,
From his deadly ambuscade.

Each man fell flat on the bottom
Of the boat; and the captain said:
“If we lie here, we all are captured,
And the first who moves is dead!”

Then out spoke a negro sailor,
No slavish soul had he:
“Somebody's got to die, boys,
And it might as well be me!”

Firmly he rose, and fearlessly
Stepped out into the tide;
He pushed the vessel safely off,
Then fell across her side:

Fell, pierced by a dozen bullets,
As the boat swung clear and free;—
But there was n't a man of them that day
Who was fitter to die than he!