Found this in the Library of Congress' online digital archive:
WHEN a boy, Harry Bluff, left his friends and his home,
And his dear native land, o’er the ocean to roam;
Like a sapling he sprung, he was fair to the view,
He was true Yankee oak, boys, the older he grew.
Tho’ his body was weak, and his hands they were soft,
When the signal was given, he first went aloft;
The veterans all cried, he’ll one day lead the van,
Though rated a boy, he’d the soul of a man,
And the heart of a true Yankee Sailor.
When to manhood promoted, and burning for fame,
Still in peace or in war, Harry Bluff was the same;
So true to his love, and in battle so brave,
That the myrtle and laurel entwin’d o’er his grave.
For his country he fell, and with victory crown’d,
The flag shot away, fell in tatters around;
The foe thought he’d struck, but he sung out avast,
And Columbia’s colors he nail’d to the mast,
And died like a true Yankee Sailor.