American Memory has this little poem about Antietam. Both it and the Cowell verses far surpass the bloody boasting of a Col. Langenschwartz (thread 60314).

Lyr. Add: THE DRUMMER OF ANTIETAM
(Air: The Last Rose of Summer)

The drummer of Antietam
Lays dead and alone,
Upon the cold battle-field,
Where his blood has flown;
No friends mourn around him,
No comrades are near
To lament his early fate,
Or o'er him shed a tear..

Now, the moon faintly beams
On the spot where he lays,
Making his features more ghastly,
With its misty rays:
While hundreds sleep near him,
In death's icy-chain,
Who've fought their last battle,
Who'll ne'er wake again..

And thus are the bravest
Cut off in their bloom,
And manhood's hopes crushed
In the cold tomb!..
But they shall be cherished
In the hearts of the free,
As true martyrs of justice,
And sweet Liberty!..

American Memory, song sheet printed by H. De Marsan, NY.

(The song posted by Rietman may be heard at American Memory)