John Kenyon - Brook Of Sanguinetto, lyrics

NEAR THE LAKE OF THRASYMENE. We win, where least we care to strive; And where the most we strive—we miss. Old Hannibal, if now alive, Might sadly testify to this. He lost the Rome, for which he came; And—what he never had in petto— Won for this little brook a name— Its mournful name of Sanguinetto.