Punch in a Grave Mood

Farewell. No matter who may fall,
Our flag must wave out on the wall;
The Workers brush their tears away,
My Merry-makers still be gay!
But there's a crack in my old voice;
An ache at heart; I miss you, Boys, —
Good fellows and dear Comrades gone,
And ever going one by one!

"We know how some have had to quaff
The bitter cup, and make men laugh;
Of scenes behind the Scenes we know
That would have spoiled the outer show.
And how you kept the worst behind,
And gave your best and never whined, —
Good fellows and dear Comrades gone,
And ever going one by one!

Mirth mixed with sadness everywhere!
Have you the Charivari there!
Has Elia joined you, and Moliere,
Burns, Rabelais, Heine, and Voltaire?
My Merry men with the Mermaids rare,
And Shakespeare chosen for the chair?
Good fellows and dear Comrades gone,
And ever going one by one!

I think the smile of kindly mirth
That you so often made on earth
To lighten in the saddest face,
And brighten in the dai'kest place,
Will be reflected from below
To shine on as your Afterglow!
Good fellows and clear Comrades gone,
And ever going one by one!