Fiddler’s Green 

Halfway down the trail to hell,

In a shady meadow green,

Are the souls of all dead troopers camped,

Near a good old-time canteen,

And this eternal resting place

Is known as Fiddle’s Green.

Marching past, straight through to hell,

The Infantry are seen,

Accompanied by the engineers,

Artillery and Marines,

For none but shades of Cavalryman

Dismount at Fiddler’s Green

Though some go curving down the trail

To seek a warmer scene,

No trooper ever gets to hell

Ere he’s emptied his canteen

And so rides back to drink again

With friends at Fiddler’s Green.

And so when man and horse go down,

Beneath a saber keen,

Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee

You stop a bullet clean,

And the hostiles come to get your scalp

Just empty your canteen,

And put a pistol to your head

And go to Fiddler’s Green.

Fiddler's Green    |    Grog Bowl Ceremony    |    Sequence of Events    |    Toast    |    Unit History    |    Order