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Troop, 3rd Squadron, 4th Cavalry 25th Infantry Division Personal Experience Narratives (War Stories) "Fiddlers' 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 Fiddlers' Green. Marching past, straight through to Hell The Infantry are seen. Accompanied by the Engineers, Artillery and Marines, For none but the shades of Cavalrymen Dismount at Fiddlers' 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 Fiddlers' 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 your pistol to your head And go to Fiddlers' Green. And for those who in later years in Armor served and rode steeds of steel, Instead of boots and saddles used. They too were troopers true, and So with cavalrymen of earlier times We now salute those who in recent times Now in Fiddler's Green reside. Note: Fiddlers' Green was believed to have originated in the 1800s as a song sung by the Irish soldiers of the 7th Cavalry.
Note: Verse 5 authored by Colonel Guy Troy, U.S. Army Retired  Stories
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