And as the solemn boom they hear,
Old men shall grasp the idle spear,
Laid by to rust for many a year,
And to the struggle run:
Young men shall leave their toils or books,
Or turn to swords their pruning-hooks;
And maids have sweetest smiles for those
Who battle with their country's foes--
_Hurra! the work is done!_

And when the cannon's iron throat
Shall bear the news to dells remote,
And trumpet blast resound the note--
That victory is won;
When down the wind the banner drops,
And bonfires blaze on mountain tops,
His sides shall glow with fierce delight,
And ring glad peals from morn to night--
_Hurra! the work is done!_

But of such themes forbear to tell--
May never War awake this bell
To sound the tocsin or the knell--
Hush'd be the alarum gun.
Sheath'd be the sword! and may his voice
But call the nations to rejoice
That War his tatter'd flag has furl'd,
And vanish'd from a wiser world--
_Hurra! the work is done!_