Ye men of Cuba, to you I call,
Mourn for your leader, place crape on the wall;
Tell the young children that play at your feet
Of the wonderful General that has fallen to sleep.
Sleep! yes in the graveyard he lies;
But his spirit's sweetly resting, beyond the skies.
We think of his work, we say he was grand;
Why not let for him a monument stand;
One that will reach to the ethereal blue,
Bearing the name Maceo, will do.
Dear Maceo, our hearts pine for thee!'
For whom thou died, can say we are free.
Published in Avenging the Maine, 1900