Buckley Hall

 

Well, we may as well sing

As the night is beckoning

And the old, pure heart

Remembers everything;

 

And we may as well pray

To the bright-dying day

That the ones the night has lost

Will somehow find their way;

 

For the night is very long,

And we only have a song

In the corner of the heart

Where the light is clear and strong.

 

There is pain in everything

That the speeding days will bring,

But the battle is not lost,

So we may as well sing.