From Williamsport to Spearville my father made his way, caught up in the mustering, Missouri’s Northern fray
He shod his soul with blackened coal and he hammered red hot steel, a smithy for the rank and file, his papers held the wheel
Of a blacksmith wagon he honed the craft and he chanted with the fire, never was a rambling man, never were he a liar
Old General Grant he made it clear “I bid you hear my call, my best horse needs your steady hand, wherefore I shall not fall”

So Company “A” the 14th Illinois he volunteered, serving the cause as best he could 3 months and 3 long years
A blacksmith for the infantry and blacksmith in his soul, he rode to meet the flame and steel in the Southern winds below

He held his pride within his hands and his fingers trained for war, worn with toil on his brow, wrought out through the sweat of the forge
He smithy-ed, soled and shoed the mares and he bonded with the steed, with quiet integrity, the model of a creed
A journeyman the live long day, and humble in his stead, stout-hearted handiwork where lesser men fear to tread
3 daughters were born to him and 5 good able sons, like iron and powder on the belt, a belscram and a gun

So Company “A” the 14th Illinois he volunteered, serving the cause as best he could 3 months and 3 long years
A blacksmith for the infantry and blacksmith in his soul, he rode to meet the flame and steel in the Southern winds below

Dear Hannah made a life with him, she was his one true love, joined like a hilt to blade, “a tang of fire and blood”
A veteran in November of 1923, he passed on from the crucible which now burns under me
That old brigade saluted him as he crossed the divide, and prayers that he used to pray would now be realized
“To hasten the drawing out, the fuller from the tool” , his hammer is laid to rest…

So Company “A” the 14th Illinois he volunteered, serving the cause as best he could 3 months and 3 long years
A blacksmith for the infantry and blacksmith in his soul, he entered into his rest, and shed the flame below