For that month of July,

            Chills were sent

            Down the backs of people

By those that christened

        This great place.

The grass was green

            As the Irish soldiers came

                        To embrace their fate

                             Or to meet their doom
                       the bayonets at the ready

                                    They charged

The trees bore no fruit

            As if they were in anticipation

                        Of what was to come

            Only lead, shells, boulders, and rock

                        Lay strewn across the land

As were the hopes and dreams

            Of the men

            That fell at this place

A place now desolate and reeking of death,

            That only the devil

Could make it a home  

Standing here at this place

            That my husband brought me to,

Wondering if I should cry

            For the men lost

                        Or scream

At the ignorance that lead

            To such an awful story.

I could see the Blue,

I could see the Gray,

But for three long days

            There was only red �?/EM>

The blood of the soldiers

            That christened

                                This Pennsylvania Hill