The Wound

I dress a wound in the side
Deep, deep
But a day or two more
For see the frame all wasted and sinking
And the yellow-blue countenance see

I dress the perforated shoulder
The foot with the bullet-wound
Cleanse the one with a gnawing and putrid
Gangrene

I am faithful, I do not give out
The fractur'd thigh, the knee, the wound in the abdomen
These and more I dress with impassive hand
Yet, deep in my breast, a fire, a burning flame

I dress a wound in the side
Deep, deep
But a day or two more
For see the frame all wasted and sinking
And the yellow-blue countenance see

I dress the perforated shoulder
The foot with the bullet-wound
Cleanse the one with a gnawing gangrene
So offensive, while the attendant stands behind
Aside me holding the tray

Yet, deep in my breast, a fire, a burning flame

I am faithful, I do not give out
The fractur'd thigh, the knee, the wound in the abdomen
These and more I dress with impassive hand
Yet deep in my breast a fire
I am faithful, I do not give out
The fractur'd thigh, the knee, the wound in the abdomen
These and more I dress with impassive hand
Yet, deep in my breast, a fire, a burning flame