Via Cousin Becky
Cousin Becky on the far right in a blue blouse, Brockie-boy third from left, back in our younger days, Littleton reunion.
John Pelopidus Leach
a
John Pelopidus Leach
Fife and Drum Corps, Littleton
1906: Only Old Veteran Fife and Drum Corps in existence, from the Lawrence O’Bryan Branch (died at Antietam) Kettle drummers: (left) Alphonso Haynes and Deany Smith (last on right);
Bass drummer: Mr. Lewis; Fifer: Mr. Johnson; from Greensboro area
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Reminiscences of Roanoke Minute Men
"Oft in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chains have bound me,
Fond Mem'ry brings the light
Of other days around me."
When I remember all
The friends so link'd together,
I've seen around me fall -
Like leaves in wintry weather -
I feel like one who treads alone,
Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose friends are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed.
The Combat deepens - On ye brave,
Who rush to glory or the grave!
Wave, Munich, all the banners wave!
And charge with all thy Chivalry!
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
Then shook the hills with Thunder riv'n;
Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n;
And louder than the bolts of Heav'n
Far flash'd the red artillery.
The war is o'er, and Father Time has cleared the strife away,
And scattered golden sunbeams where once dark shadows lay,
Our heroes sleep; oh! let them rest, nor take their fame away,
For glory marks each sacred spot where sleep the Blue and Gray.
Reminiscences of Roanoke Minute Men
"Oft in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chains have bound me,
Fond Mem'ry brings the light
Of other days around me."
When I remember all
The friends so link'd together,
I've seen around me fall -
Like leaves in wintry weather -
I feel like one who treads alone,
Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose friends are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed.
The Combat deepens - On ye brave,
Who rush to glory or the grave!
Wave, Munich, all the banners wave!
And charge with all thy Chivalry!
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
Then shook the hills with Thunder riv'n;
Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n;
And louder than the bolts of Heav'n
Far flash'd the red artillery.
The war is o'er, and Father Time has cleared the strife away,
And scattered golden sunbeams where once dark shadows lay,
Our heroes sleep; oh! let them rest, nor take their fame away,
For glory marks each sacred spot where sleep the Blue and Gray.
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